


The House Wins

by SubwayWolf



Series: Use the Press [1]
Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: Aggression, Anal Fingering, Anal Training, Blow Jobs, Boss/Employee Relationship, Butt Plugs, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Choking, Come Eating, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Drunkenness, Enemies to Lovers, First Time Anal Play, Glass Dildos, Hair Pulling, Love Polygon, Love Triangle Blues, M/M, Masturbation, Office Blow Jobs, Open Relationships, Oral Threesome, Orgasm Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Painplay, Polyamory, Power Dynamics, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rough Kissing, Secret Relationship, Seth Is A Whiny Baby Bitch, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn Seth/Doug, Southern accents, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, just kidding, self-fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-05-26 05:45:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6226294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doug and Francis have an indissoluble private relationship built on mutuality, but Frank likes to keep a casual open door with the members of his administration he's closest with.</p><p>Seth Grayson is new to Underwood administration, and his presence is enough to put Doug on edge. Doug likes to protect his President, and he has a tendency to get obsessive. Thankfully, Seth is a fast learner. It just takes him a few harsh lessons to get it right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so we're doing this. 
> 
> I was genuinely shocked when I wrote my little update for my 5+1 HoC fic [Comfort Eagle](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4265568/chapters/9657156) and realized I was the first person to ever post something with Seth Grayson in it. So here's a bit of a saga that revolves around him as the center of attention. Because he's my favorite. And... yeah, that's the only reason. 
> 
> So enjoy the sexual exploitation and little bit of plot! Hit me up in the comments or on tumblr if you want!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, this story is going to take place over a long period of time both chronologically and by means of how I post. That being said, there will be no spoilers for season 4 until the last few chapters, and I'll put a warning in the notes once I get to that point. As of today I still haven't finished season 4 myself, so no spoilies please. Anyway, I just wanted you all to know that you won't have to worry about that.

It was already dark outside when Seth had visited the study in Vice President’s home the night before. There were no windows in the room; to maximize fortification, no doubt. The only lights in the office were a desk lamp, the electric light of the laptop screen, and a standing lamp in the back corner. Otherwise, Seth was shrouded in shadow. 

When he entered, he was alarmed at how dark it was but didn’t say or do anything about it. He didn’t want to turn the lights on with the switch by the door because he didn’t want to disturb Mr. Underwood. Besides, he wasn’t asked to. And in the White House it was easy to get into the habit of only doing what you were told.

Seth closed the door behind him. He’d gotten into the habit of doing that, too. He was in his full suit-and-tie, even though usually midway through the day he took off his jacket and just walked around with his dress shirt and tie up top, but he felt like it was necessary to wear a jacket when in a private meeting with the Vice President. He even buttoned it, too.

Underwood was seated at the desk, reading glasses on and scribbling down notes on some of the various papers scattered around the tabletop. He glanced up for just a second, giving Seth a good once-over. “Thank you for coming over, Seth. I promise I won’t keep you long, I’ll let you get home.” A small smile crossed his lips as he waved a hand dismissively. “And you’re not in trouble. These are just some formalities.”

The hairs on the back of Seth’s neck stood up. This was definitely not normal. Something about it seemed off, like they weren’t formalities. Seth tried to push that feeling to the back of his mind. “Don’t worry, Mister Vice President, you’re not keeping me from anything. I’m happy to be here.”

Underwood looked up from his work again. He paused. He put the pencil down and sat up straight in his chair. By lifting a hand and motioning with his first two fingers, Frank gestured for Seth to come closer. “Don’t stand all the way across the room like that. I won’t bite, I promise.”

As Seth obeyed and took a few steps closer, away from the door, he paid close attention to Frank’s voice and how noticeably amused it sounded, as if Underwood had some private inside joke with himself that Seth had no chance of picking up on.

Underwood then folded his arms across his chest. He tilted his chin up and looked through the lenses of his reading glasses. “Seth, you’re new to my administration, but it hasn’t taken long for me to grow fond of you. You’re intelligent, talented, and resourceful. You are extremely well-suited for my team.”

The apprehension Seth had been feeling quickly washed away. He was a little shocked to hear this, and it probably showed on his expression. “Uh,” he stammered, “Thank you, sir.” He was half expecting a ‘but’ to begin Underwood’s next sentence.

But none came. “You’re joining a highly-skilled group of people who are very important and dear to me. I expect the best from my people and they give it to me unconditionally. Often, the relationships I have with these people exceed strictly business terms.” He unfolded his arms and gestured dismissively again. “Now, I know you’re perceptive, Seth. I don’t have to spell it out for you. I’m sure you’ve noticed these things.”

Seth certainly understood. He was a master of language, of how much and how little it could hide. He knew exactly what the Vice President meant when he spoke of these relationships. Doug Stamper came to mind immediately, then Edward Meechum soon after. “Yes, I have,” Seth agreed with a nod. He could feel his cheeks turning pink and hoped the dark would be enough to hide it.

“Good,” Francis said curtly. “Now let me make this clear. I do not ask for their love. I do not ask for affection. I do not ask for gifts. I only ask for loyalty.” He paused to take off his reading glasses and place them on the desk in front of him. Then he looked back up. “Are you loyal, Seth?”

It was a yes or no question and Seth knew the answer right away, but something about the way it was asked sent a chill up his back. He ignored that. “Absolutely,” he responded.

Frank just nodded. “I know you are. I didn’t need to ask, not really.” He took another moment to look Seth over. It wasn’t clear if he was purposefully trying to make Seth feel vulnerable, but nonetheless he succeeded. “The people under my employ prefer to show their affection and gratitude in a very specific way. I care for them, and they care for me. There is a very simple way to express this kind of mutuality. Do you understand what I’m getting at?”

Only then did Seth realize how his heart had quickened up in his chest. He could feel his cheeks get warmer, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the change in blood pressure or from the mere inclination of the thought of what kind of explicit displays of gratitude Underwood was referring to. “I understand,” he said.

“Of course you do. Anyway, I guess this was a way to express to you that I trust you.” Only Frank Underwood could make something sound so genuine while still somehow letting on that it was a lie. “This is all a team effort, as you know. So the offer is on the table, for if ever you wish to express your gratitude or loyalty in that manner. And just so you know, I won’t hold it against you if you aren’t interested.” He gave Seth a final nod. “You can go home now, Seth. Have a good night.”

But Seth didn’t move. He didn’t want to go home, not now. He just couldn’t. His body wouldn’t move, he could barely move a finger. He could feel himself salivating. He wanted to ask if he was allowed to stay, but he couldn’t form the words in his mouth, so he just stood there, staring, and parted his lips.

Francis was about to reach out for his glasses to put them back on and continue his work. Then he realized that his Director of Communications was not leaving. He spoke firmly, tersely. “Seth.”

His name, from the lips of the Vice President. Seth could not turn away. He was stiff and frozen and the only step he could think to take was forward. He just wanted to be commanded – he _needed_ that. 

Frank did not reach for his glasses. He rolled backwards in his chair, making space between his seat and the desk. “Come here, Seth. Let me see you.” 

Seth moved forward, his body moving cautiously on its own towards the voice of his superior. His head was swimming; where did this come from? Why was his heart beating so fast? Was he afraid, and of what – the infidelity, the darkness, the Vice President? It didn’t matter. He liked the fear. He licked his lips.

“You are such a gorgeous thing.” Frank’s voice was getting darker, dimmer, heavier. “Come over here, by my desk. It’s alright.”

It was like an Archdemon was speaking. The air in the room chilled. If Seth hadn’t known better he would have assumed the cold front came directly from Underwood, from his breath, or his voice, maybe. His voice was cold like frost burn, yet still alluring.

Frank gestured on the ground between the desk and his chair. “Right there, sweetheart. Get down on your knees for me.”

Alluring in the kind of way the sultan of hell tempts Cain to fratricide.

As Seth settled himself down, Frank continued. “Good boy. You look pretty down there. Flushed cheeks, blue eyes, and those pink lips… a perfect little cockpit, huh?”

Alluring in the kind of way a snake seduces the first of womankind to sin.

God damn. This was really getting Seth off. In dress slacks, it was hard to kneel down, and his pants were tight and stretched over the backs of his legs and his ass. And staring up at Francis, seeing his eyes looking down at him, it was indescribable. Seth’s heart was beating right into his eardrums. He could feel the heat on his cheeks. He licked his lips, just to get them wet and a little pinker. If Frank liked it, Seth was going to give it to him.

He waited as Underwood unfastened his belt and patiently undid the buttons of his slacks. Seth felt his own cock bulging out at his zipper, barely no space to stiffen up because of how taut his pants were across his lap. Was he seriously already getting hard just by watching Underwood undo some buttons? The heat on his cheeks was getting even warmer, so furiously hot that he could feel the tips of his ears get a little warm, too.

Underwood got his pants off and exposed himself. Frank had a big, thick cock, and he wasn’t even fully hard yet. Seth felt dizzy. This was just like he imagined it. 

It didn’t even cross his mind that he was about to do this with the most powerful man in the country, not really, but he was well aware of that. That was precisely what he liked about it. Frank was more powerful than him, he could submit him into doing literally anything. 

But Seth wanted this. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to just be here with his head between Underwood’s knees, with a fat, hard cock in his lips filling up down the back of his throat. The retributions didn’t make him afraid.

Besides, nobody else would ever know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know that first chapter doesn't help my case, but i promise this fic is mostly seth/doug.

This day after was the just same as all the days before.

Seth was busy, as always, and he did his work diligently and humorlessly. People were in and out of his office all day, and he had some alone time to work. He read a hundred e-mails and skimmed a hundred more. He got a lunch break and ate a turkey sandwich and some nacho cheese-flavored chips. 

As far as media relations went, he actually caught a break today. He only had to give one conference to the press midday about Cabinet matters and spent most of the time beforehand writing down talking points and receiving statements. The presentation went well, as it always did. And since it was just talking points, he didn’t have to answer questions afterwards.

So, for all intents and purposes, the day was nothing short of normal.

Except for the taste in the back of his throat. And Seth had spent so long the night before brushing his teeth, and it didn’t go away. He could barely sleep. And when he woke up this morning he tried brushing again. Re-applying toothpaste after the third time felt like overreacting, and so did flossing, so he didn’t do that. But now, the morning after, it had only been a few hours since he’d left home, and while his teeth were minty fresh, the taste in his mouth was not gone. Even the realization that it probably was all in his head didn’t make it go away.

But aside from that ordeal, things were normal. Everything was the same. Every time he remembered what had happened the night before, his head started to swarm, but it was easy to distract himself with work. The event was weirdly casual, anyway, so strangely, it was easy for it to slip to the back of his mind.

He’d always felt such strange comfort in the sound of fingers tapping rapid-fire on a keyboard, or the sight of his own handwriting darkening up a page. He had a stressful job but he could channel the stress through simple motions like that. So he was able to get through this normal day with management techniques. 

A lot of people came to his office during the day, one of which being Doug Stamper. He’d been in and out, delivering one message or another. That, too, was normal.

Maybe that’s why it was so disturbing to Seth now, as he looked back on it. Seth must have had his eyes on his work, or was too preoccupied, because it was hard not to notice Doug’s body language or his tone of voice or the damn stone-cold look in his eyes. It was grave and frankly, it was terrifying.

Only upon Doug’s third appearance in Seth’s office did Seth realize something was up. And it didn’t take much beating around the bush for Doug to make his grievances known.

“Tell me about your meeting with Mister Underwood last night.” Doug’s voice, especially when he was mad, was very soft, but not weak by any means. It was level and straightforward, yet dusky and quiet, like he was speaking behind someone’s back.

Seth, at first, actually had no idea what Doug was talking about because it just hadn’t crossed his mind that anyone would ever find out about it. Not to mention Seth himself was trying to forget about it, too. “Uh…” he hesitated. “What?”

Doug took a step forward. He was right up against Seth’s desk, standing over him. His hands were in the pockets of his slacks, probably balled into fists. “You know what.” 

Seth didn’t like being looked down upon like this. It made his collar and tie feel tight around his throat. He wanted to tug at it to loosen it up but he felt like that was too obvious a display of weakness. He stood from his chair and put his hands up, trying his best to keep his voice calm. He avoided eye contact. “Look, Doug, I don’t know what you’re worried about, he just called me in to-”

Doug interrupted him not by talking but by circling around the desk so that they were both behind it, face-to-face. He was really close to Seth now, just inches apart. If Doug was trying to be intimidating, it was working. “I know exactly why he called you in.” 

Seth was too frozen to speak. He considered backing up, but he was certain Doug would just follow him and get him pinned against the bookshelf or against a wall. And Seth was indeed feeling weak, so he wasn’t so eager to display that.

Unamused by Seth’s complete lack of cooperation, Doug narrowed his eyes condescendingly. “Tell me.” His voice turned even darker, like a threatening growl. “And please, lie to me. I really want you to lie to me.” 

Seth knew exactly what to say. He remembered everything. He shouldn’t have been afraid, he had no reason to, but he was. There was something cold in Stamper’s eyes. And Doug wasn’t even taller, but even so, Seth felt smaller. 

At first, Seth’s brain jumbled around frantically in search for a million different excuses. That would have been the easy route: to lie. But Doug knew. Somehow. There was no convincing him otherwise and lying probably would have pissed him off even more. And Seth really wasn’t in any place to piss Doug off any more than he already was. At the same time, he thought that sharing some details would have made it worse, too. 

So he took the middle ground, confirming what went unsaid by technically not affirming at all, and instead asking, “How did you know?”

“Never ask me how I know,” Doug answered, narrowing his dark, almost black eyes. “Just assume that I do.” Doug’s tone made it clear that he didn’t appreciate the change of subject.

Seth caved. He was afraid he was going to start sweating if this was kept up any longer. He sighed deeply. “Alright, fine.” He lowered his voice to a whisper in case anyone was outside the door. “I sucked him off, okay? Mr. Underwood was telling me about the special relationships he has with people who work closely with him.” Doug didn’t seem surprised by this, and Seth didn’t expect him to be. He phrased the next part carefully. “I guess, uh… I’m the next guy to join the club,” he offered with a shrug.

Doug’s expression didn’t change at all, not even subtly. “That isn’t funny,” he said.

Confused, Seth lowered his brow. Doug was obviously in on it, so he had to have expected this, or at least understood it first-hand. “I’m not trying to be funny,” Seth said matter-of-factly. 

“Good. Because I don’t like jokes.” For a second it looked like Doug was going to turn around and leave, but he stayed there, right up in Seth’s face, unfaltering.

Seth really wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. Doug was trying to intimidate him, and it was working, but he wanted this over with. “Okay,” he sighed. “I’ll add that to the ongoing list of things you don’t like, right after ‘personal space’.” Doug didn’t laugh. Seth raised an eyebrow. “Is there anything you _do_ like, for the record? Aside from, uh…” Seth offered an awkward smile. “Frank Underwood?”

That ticked him off. Doug got even closer, as close as humanly possible without touching him, and the movement forward shut Seth up right away. “Listen, smart ass. What happened between you two meant nothing. He doesn’t trust you yet. I don’t trust you, period. Trust and respect need to be earned. Mutuality is a _reward_. Do you understand me?”

Seth was completely motionless. He was scared to even breathe, in fear that Doug would move to attack him with something other than words. So instead he just nodded, quickly, so that he could get out of this situation as fast as he could.

Doug took a step back. Seth resumed breathing. The look in Doug’s eyes struck fear in his heart. “Do _not_ cross the Vice President,” Doug warned. “Do _not_ cross me.”

Finally, Doug left the office and shut the door behind him so that Seth was alone. Seth knew that he had no reason to be genuinely afraid of what Doug could do but that didn’t matter because he _was_ afraid. He didn’t know the man too well just yet, but he didn’t need to. There was just something in Stamper’s eyes that put fear right into the twist of Seth’s gut and compelled him, out of fear, to obey.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! If you didn't notice I'm breaking this up into smaller segments so updates will be more timely. :) Enjoy!!

As the days went on, Seth came to realize that the weirdest part about this was that it wasn’t weird at all.

He’d had jobs in the past. He’d slept with people in the past. But never had those paths intertwined. In fact, all signs pointed to proving the theory that involving work and romance was a huge mistake. But as it turned out, he felt more productive than ever. He worked harder and faster and grew to love his job, a lot, and looked forward to coming in every day.

Besides, this _wasn’t_ a romance, not by any means. There was no affection or flirting or holding hands. It was just that one time, and the future was nothing but an offer on the table. 

It was all so casual. But that sat well with Seth, somehow. In a way, he preferred it like this. It made a lot of logical sense to him. Sex shouldn’t be something exclusive, and polyamory, in his mind, was just a natural human inclination. 

He wondered if he was thinking too far into this. Of course he was. Every day he had to remind himself that it was nothing more than mutual regard. As much as he understood the casualness, he wasn’t used to it just yet. And as much as the concept made sense, he had never been very good at sharing.

He’d met with the Vice President every day during work and nothing was brought up. Not like Seth expected him to bring it up when they were discussing business, but he didn’t even have a suggestive look in his eyes or make any off-handed comments – nothing. This was what just he expected from Frank, though. The man knew how to balance both work and play, but he knew very well when the former triumphed the latter.

And it wasn’t really his place to be acknowledged, anyway – not yet. But he still wanted it. That, he couldn’t help. He remembered the way Underwood had praised him so sweetly all the way through the blowjob, and his ears started to ring. He wanted that again. He couldn’t wait.

Every day, Seth anticipated. He felt a constant tight feeling in his gut, like he was waiting for something to happen. But he wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting. 

Anxiety told him the press would somehow find out that he got on his knees for the Commander-in-Chief and the scandal would turn the entire administration upside down. 

But desire didn’t care about that, desire told him that any second, the phone would ring or he’d receive an e-mail in his inbox from Underwood, requesting him to come in tonight.

And fear wished that it would _never_ happen again. Were Doug’s words a warning to back off, or just a warning to not get involved until the administration could really trust him? Seth wasn’t sure. And he really wasn’t in any position to piss off Doug Stamper, so being unsure meant he really shouldn’t act at all.

So that’s exactly what he did: nothing. The offer was an open book but he couldn’t find the courage to make one himself, he couldn’t send Underwood a text or e-mail or call him and ask to visit. That, of all things, was out of his comfort zone. So he just waited.

Waiting was probably the worst thing about it, too. When work lulled, his mind started to trail. He started to flash back and think of what had happened. Sometimes he got into pretty vivid detail before someone waltzed into his office and snapped him out of it. Sometimes he even got to filling up a stiff bulge in his pants, and those were times he was grateful he had a desk job.

But even that cooled down after a while. He came to realize that he was never going to be asked in. He _had_ to take initiative. If he appreciated and respected Frank Underwood, which he did, all sexual activity aside, then he would have to take action and request a private meeting himself. And he’d have to cross his fingers and hope Doug wouldn’t find out.

So he had to ask for it. 

Maybe tomorrow.

Work was busy and served as a good distraction. It took him a week or so, but he came to terms with the fact that he wasn’t going to get attention unless he asked for it or did something to deserve it, but he wanted to wait for the right time. Every single day was swamped with media relations and press activity, but he knew a day would come up. 

As the time passed, he cooled off. He had let his guard down. That was a habit he didn’t think he had, something he was very good at avoiding.

He got the e-mail minutes before he was going to log off for the day and head home. The sender: Francis Underwood.

His heart surged into a quicker speed and his cheeks went pink. An invitation? He’d convinced himself that he didn’t need one. The wording was vague, just a time and a location and some generic filler about meeting, but the reason was undeniable. 

Or was it? Maybe this was just business. There was an opt-out line in there, though – Seth’s eyes were scanning and skimming because he was too jumpy to focus in and read the whole thing – so if the meeting was optional, it must not have been important, or at least not in the way that involved politics and policy. 

One of the people giving closing briefings in his office asked if he was okay so Seth brushed it off and lied and told them yes. He tried to focus in on his work for the last fifteen minutes of his day, but that was damn hard.

* * *

There was an eerie chill in the house as Seth made his way upstairs to Underwood’s study, but despite that, his blood was running warm. He had to keep tugging at his collar, he felt like the heat was suffocating him. He even loosened his tie, but fumbled with it because his mind just wouldn’t stop swimming.

By the time he got to the door, he realized he hadn’t planned what to say – he had gotten awfully used to doing that beforehand, it tended to calm his nerves, but at the last second he realized he hadn’t done any prep at all. Cursing himself, he opened the door and went inside anyway.

When he entered, Seth saw Frank back by his desk again. It was dark again, too, but not as much as last time. Frank seemed to be preoccupied by something on the ground, something Seth couldn’t quite make out, and didn’t notice his arrival. 

“Mr. Underwood?” he asked, getting his attention. Then he scanned the room and saw a pile of discarded pants and briefs, and then _another_ pile, and then he heard the unmistakable sound of a blowjob. Seth’s cheeks started to burn. “Oh…” he murmured.

Underwood waved him in like there was nothing unusual about this, or that they were alone. “Seth,” he greeted. “So glad you could stop by. You’re a little late.”

Seth didn’t know what to say to that, so he stayed quiet. It only took a step away from the door until he was able to see what was really going on.

It was Doug fucking Stamper, kneeling right there between the Vice President’s legs. His back was to the doorway, but it was unmistakable that it was Doug. Seth’s heart almost froze. It took him a second to remember that Doug was in on this too, and had been for far longer than Seth had. 

But Seth _hated_ sharing. Jealousy stormed in him like a hurricane, but it turned out that he wasn’t the only one to be feeling this.

When Doug peeked over his shoulder, removing his mouth from Underwood’s hard cock, his expression turned from sleepy to absolutely enraged the instant he laid eyes on Seth. His face flushed and his muscles tensed. He shifted his legs closer together to try and conceal himself – he was naked from the waist down and on the top was still fitted with a suit and tie.

Instead of confronting Seth, Doug instead glared up at Frank and muttered, “Sir…” It implied so many things at once but Frank seemed to understand what he was trying to say.

Frank looked down at the man kneeling before him. “Doug,” he warned with a furrowed brow. “Are you questioning me? And I don’t remember telling you to stop.” 

All rivalries aside, Seth would be lying if he said this didn’t excite him. And he couldn’t deny the satisfaction he felt when Underwood shot him down.

Still glaring over his shoulder, Doug had one hand on Frank’s dick, stroking him gently, not enough to get him to come, just to keep him stimulated. He didn’t say a word, but he made it clear just by expression what he was thinking. When he looked back up at Frank, he pleaded with him silently.

Frank didn’t appreciate that. “Don’t give me that look, Doug.” There was a twinge of disappointment in his voice. “You have to remember that mutuality is not exclusive. The more friends I can trust, the better off we are. Isn’t that right?”

Doug was flushed with passion, rage, and embarrassment all in one. He glared up at Seth but spoke to Frank. “Yes, sir,” he answered begrudgingly.

Frank gave a small smile at he looked back at Seth but still spoke to Doug. “Besides, he has those pretty blue eyes that I like.” Seth instantly flushed, which made Frank smile a little more. Frank looked down at Doug, who looked up at him and met his gaze. “Give him a chance, will you?”

Upon further inspection Seth could see that between Doug’s legs and stuffed up his hole was translucent glass dildo with a wide diameter and a twice-knotted base. The glass made so there was no substance yield at all, and Doug’s hole was stretched tight around the two inches or so still hanging out. Seth could only dream how much was hidden inside.

It hit Seth all at once that he was perhaps not welcome, or maybe he’d gotten the wrong time or place in the e-mail, which was unlikely given that he’d read it a thousand times. He tried to keep his eyes off of Doug and looked at the floor instead. “I’m sorry, sir, if this is going to cause trouble or you want me to leave-”

Frank shook his head and waved him off so casually, like he was dismissing the bid of a favor. “No. Stay,” he offered. His eyes watched Seth intently from across the room. “Only leave if you’re uncomfortable.” He looked down at Doug for a second. “That goes for you too, Doug. I don’t want either of you doing anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

Seth licked his lips. “I’m not uncomfortable. I want to stay.” He was getting sick of waiting to be beckoned. He made a slow approach across the room, fixing his eyes on the situation as he did.

There was heavy anticipation in the room as they both waited for Doug’s answer. It seemed like it could make or break the evening. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t seem like Doug was very good at sharing either. Maybe that was the source of their argument that day in Seth’s office.

As he got closer, Seth could see that Doug was rock hard as well, and the glass dildo up his hole was dripping wet with a lot of lube, and that Doug’s other hand was deep back underneath Frank’s legs, probably with a finger or two teasing up his hole.

Though he didn’t appreciate being observed by Seth’s wandering eyes, finally Doug resigned. “Okay,” he said. To him, it was probably an ultimatum between letting this happen and leaving Seth alone with Frank. It was obvious which of the two Doug would rather have.

“Good,” Frank answered darkly after what had seemed like forever. He kept his eyes on Seth’s even though Seth wasn’t looking there – even so, Seth could feel the gaze. He always could; it was cold and unmistakable. “I called you here for a reason.” He moved a hand up to his cock, holding it loosely at the tip while Doug held onto the base, and Frank ran his thumb over the glistening wet head. “Do you want it?”

Seth almost asked, want what? but his mouth said, “Yes,” because in a split second he realized it didn’t matter. Whatever it was - of course he wanted it, he wanted everything, he wanted it all.

Underwood spread his legs a little wider. “Get down on your knees and fight for it.”

The command made Seth get to his knees almost instantly. He was shoulder-to-shoulder with Doug once they got into place. Frank’s dick was hard between his legs, thick and heavy, and still wet from when Doug had been blowing him. Seth took one look at it and remembered how it tasted, how huge and warm it was in his mouth, and he remembered his desire.

Desire drove both of them. Seth wasn’t sure if this was really a fight; if it was, it wasn’t a fight over Frank’s dick, it was just Seth and Doug stubbornly muscling out each other, because Doug was really bitter and petty and possessive, which ruined the fun. 

But Frank’s cock was most definitely the center of attention. They tried taking turns sucking up its length while placing it in their mouths but that involved too much patience and courtesy. It ended up so that they were both on it simultaneously, sloppily licking the head from its tip to around its base or licking stripes down or around the shaft. Frank was breathless and quiet, focused on what his men were giving to him.

Accidental touches were unavoidable. As they moved in towards the head and shaft, their noses would bump against each other or their cheeks would brush together or they’d actually kiss. Doug’s tongue would slip against Seth’s own, or their lips would clash in the frenzy. He could smell Doug and he could feel Doug’s breath on him and he could taste Doug’s spit dripping all over and mixing up with his own. 

Seth liked the kisses. He liked the fight, he liked feeling Doug’s breath on him and he liked re-gaining control seconds after losing it. His slacks were tented but he didn’t touch himself, he need both hands to fight and fondle. He wanted to know who was winning. He needed an advantage.

Seth reached down and placed one hand on the small of Doug’s back. Doug flinched, not expecting this, and he was probably shooting Seth a glare but Seth kept his eyes half-lidded and avoided his gaze.

He moved the hand down so it was between Doug’s legs and loosely gripped the base of the glass dildo. Doug immediately arched his back, like he was waiting for it to move, but Seth just held the base, trying to push it just a little to see if it would yield, but it wasn’t budging. 

Doug had gained control and Frank’s dick was in his mouth but Seth was wasn’t focusing on that. He had to press with the heel of his hand against the base of the dildo to force one of the small knots inside. It took a bit of stretching but Doug loosened up just a bit and once he stretched out enough around the thickest part of the knot, the rest of it sucked up in him and disappeared.

And Doug moaned out, even with the thick shaft in his mouth and spit dribbling down his chin. There must have been so much inside of him because he was flushed so pink and he had to take his mouth away so he could moan a little longer. He removed his hand and attention from Frank, then moved to paw at his own cock, but it only took a few seconds before he spewed come all over himself and the floor.

So he was the first to go, and he unwillingly gave the floor to Seth in the process. Seth himself was dangerously close to the edge too, throbbing so hard and aching to be touched. Instead of that though, he leaned forward and got Frank’s dick back in his mouth, and he had it all to himself now, he opened his lips as wide as he could and took it all, not hesitating to duck his head until it was all the way down the back of his throat.

But Doug wasn’t finished. To him, giving satisfaction to Underwood was more important than achieving it himself. He had barely finished climaxing by the time he was back in the scuffle again, hands up, one moving to try and coax Seth’s mouth away and the other pushing deep into Frank’s hole, eliciting a hum from the otherwise quiet older man.

It was all building up. Seth could smell the sex, the sweat and the come and the hot breath they were sharing. And this scent was so masculine, and the body heat around him was so warm. All he could think about was the big dick in front of him and how good it felt to have it brush against his cheek or just to put his tongue on it. Seth was sure to lose it soon. 

Moments later, Seth frantically pawed at the fabric of his pants and could barely feel a thing through it all, but it was enough. He whined when he came, his cheeks still flushed and hot, and his lap was soon soaked in a warm, fluid mess.

He was so distracted by the afterglow pounding between his ears that he wasn’t expecting Frank to come all over him, Doug pumping out each squirt of come over his own lips and Seth’s too, and they both put out their tongues to receive the sweet seed and lick it up as fast as it shot out.

Frank sighed afterwards, catching his breath. He let his head fall back and his eyes close. There was a small smirk on his face. “Very good, boys,” he commended. The praise was more than enough of a reward. 

As Seth slowly faded back into coherence, he caught Doug’s gaze. It was just as envious and distrusting as ever. And if sharing the workload of a blowjob didn’t get them to trust each other, Seth wasn’t sure if anything would.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So last night, if you can believe this, I was supposed to watch the season finale but we had a massive wind storm and the power was out all damn night... but I did finish it up tonight! I'm so happy with that ending. So here's a big, dirty update to celebrate.

This policy had no subtext. In Washington, that was rare, but alas it was the case.

Seth expected to be hit with some sort of stipulation or to be blackmailed in some way, but it turned out that this entire process was leagues less complicated than he’d anticipated. Underwood and Stamper weren’t using him or holding anything over his head. That was something that was hard to get used to in this town without being suspicious.

Probably his least favorite part of it was that he was always caught off-guard, which he hated. Seth could never prepare for when he was to be swept off his feet. He never knew if an e-mail would come five minutes after he came in, in the middle of the day, or right before he left. He didn’t even know if one would come at all. 

And even then, sometimes he’d get an invitation and go into Underwood’s office or to his house, fully prepared to get on his knees, but instead he was just updated directly on information he needed for press briefings or something else he needed for work. Then, during times when he was busy and called in expecting desperately-needed help on how to spin a story to the press, he’d walk in and immediately be coaxed under the desk and between Underwood’s spread legs.

All in all, this was hit or miss, and Seth never knew what to expect. On one hand, he hated it because he always preferred being in the know and in control. On the other, it added a degree of excitement to the endeavor. 

And when he thought he couldn’t be caught off guard any more, he found himself lying on his stomach on Frank Underwood’s bed at eight in the morning, his pants around his ankles, propping himself up on his elbows and completely oblivious as to what was going on behind him.

What made him even more anxious was that Mr. Underwood was talking like nothing was unusual about the position his publicist was currently in. “What’s the schedule like this week, Seth? Do we still have that big conference planned for Wednesday?”

Seth was ready to respond quickly but his breath was taken away when he felt his briefs being pulled down his legs until they joined his pants and loosened belt at his feet. He was still fully dressed up top but he couldn’t ignore how vulnerable and how cold he felt. He managed to regain his footing. “Uh, yes, the press have questions about the job reform program.” It turned out that talking about his work made him feel slightly less anxious.

Frank put a hand on Seth’s ass to urge him, and Seth gasped in alarm. “Spread ‘em for me a little bit,” Frank said casually, “I’m gonna work you open.”

Seth flushed pink immediately. They’d never done anything back there before, at least nothing where Seth was at the receiving end of it. And it was too early in the morning to be fucked silly, especially since he had a lot of work to do. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to take it without getting hurt or bleeding. He’d never done anything like that before, never been fucked by a man and had barely gone as far as inching a finger inside himself while he was jerking off. Apprehension struck up in his gut.

It wouldn’t surprise anyone to hear that Frank could probably smell the fear in the air. “Tell me about the conference,” he asked. He knew that talking about something they were familiar with would make Seth relax.

He was right. Seth spread his legs a little, took a breath, and stuck to forward planning. “More outlets are coming than standard, so it’ll be a crowd. TV stations will be there along with the normal corps and the newspapers.” His words were cut off when a finger slid its way into his hole, the finger itself coated with cold, jelly-like lube that sent a chill through him. His muscles tightened in response to the entry and all he could let out was a startled, “Oh!”

“Christ,” Frank practically growled. He was only a knuckle in and was already having resistance despite all the lube he’d coated his fingers with. “You can’t take very much at all. You’re virgin-tight.”

Seth could feel how hot his cheeks were. He was embarrassed by how startled he was and tried his best to relax again. “I can push it to Friday if you need more time to prepare some statements for me to read, but we need to do it by the end of the week.” He felt the finger inside him wriggle a little further inside and he almost cried out, but instead he managed to stammer, “Th-They’re expecting details. Not full details, but I’ll give them just enough.” He closed his eyes, tightly.

Francis teased the tight, puckered rim of Seth’s hole with another finger, stretching him open just a little more and eliciting a muffled moan from him. But he stuck to the topic at hand as well. “How about I take questions on the stand? That would be better, wouldn’t it? It’s more direct. The people need to hear it from me.”

Seth was holding his breath. He spread his legs a little further, trying to ease the discomfort. “That’s not necessary, I can handle it on my own.” Francis slid a bit of the second finger inside, stretching Seth out even more. Seth bucked forward, away from him and into the sheets, groaning, “Ahh, fuck!”

Frank shook slightly in a mild chuckle. “You’re nice and snug back here,” he said as he rocked forward and sent his fingers in just a little more. “You’re new to this, aren’t you?” In all honesty, he was barely breaking the surface of how deep and tight Seth was, but Seth was really just not taking this well at all. 

Grabbing fistfuls of the sheets, Seth cursed himself internally for being such a wuss, but this sensation was so much more intense than he’d dreamed. He thought about Doug and how he took that entire toy up his ass with nothing more than an exhale, and right now Seth was not just awed but really impressed. If he could barely handle this amateur-level fingering, how could he take a dick? 

The fingers were like fire, like they didn’t belong there, but the pressure was so overwhelming. When Seth tightened up around it even more than his body was just naturally reacting, he could feel them inside of him, filling him up, and he could feel his cock starting to swell up. 

Upon seeing Seth’s white-knuckled grip on the bed sheets, Frank sighed with a keen level of disappointment. “Christ, Seth, you’re tightening up all around me. It’ll be hard for me to take them out.” With his free hand he put his hand on Seth’s ass, thumb near his hole so he could help spread a little more in an effort to pull out a bit. “If you want me to stop, you need to tell me.”

“Don’t stop,” Seth said, probably too quick, sounding desperate. “And… and, you’re right. Going on the stand yourself would be best.” He swallowed hard and shifted his weight back, taking the fingers just a little deeper inside of him. “I’ll p-push it to Friday morning.”

Frank’s voice sounded more pleased now. “Very good,” he answered. He pulled his fingers out then, leaving burning hot, stretched-out muscles to cool off from the inside. 

Seth didn’t know if he was being praised for being fingered or being good at his job, and it surprised him when he realized he didn’t have a preference between the two.

Still unsure what exactly he was being prepared for, Seth was naturally nervous about what was going on behind him, especially since Frank was walking across the room to retrieve something and gave no hints at all as to what it could be.

With Underwood across the room, Seth felt very alone again, and he couldn’t feel body heat behind him anymore. The lube inside and coating his hole was getting cold and a little bit was dripping down between his legs and onto the backs of his thighs. He was quickly growing uncomfortable and impatient.

Curious and a little worried, he wanted to turn around and see what was happening, but he didn’t want to seem too needy. “Mr. Underwood?” he started after a few moments of quiet. “What exactly are you doing?”

There must have been more fear in Seth’s voice than he’d intended because Frank chuckled. “Don’t worry, Grayson, I’m not going to fuck you.” There was an undeniable wave of relief that washed over Seth when he heard that, but it stirred up again when Frank said, “Take a look at this.”

Carrying a small plastic case, Francis walked over to the side of the bed that Seth was facing and kneeled down in front of him. He placed the case on the bed but had something from inside in his hand. It was a plug – black, shining metal, thicker than Seth had ever seen, with at least a two inch circumference and a length of over five inches.

Seth’s brow rose and his lips parted. His gut knotted instantly, he felt _fear_. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take that without a bit of blood and a lot of tears. “Oh. Sir, I don’t know if…”

A small smile cross Frank’s lips. “Not this one, don’t worry.” Seth sighed with relief and Francis chuckled at him. “This is for big boys. And it’s not even the biggest size I have.” He placed the plug on the bed – it was heavy and created an indent in the fluffy comforter. Frank slid the case over into view and started to open it. “Look here.”

After undoing the latches on the front, Francis opened the box to reveal a set of plugs lined up in a row in order of increasing size and thickness. There were spaces in the foam casting where a total of eleven plugs could be placed. The first five were a soft black silicon material to allow for comfort, but there was a row of three on the bottom which were made of metal.

Francis put the second-biggest metal plug that was on the bed and placed it into its slot in the case, but the one beside it, the next size up, was missing, as was one of the medium-sized ones. Seth tried not to think about where they currently were.

“I’m going to start training you with these plugs,” Francis explained from behind the open case. “You’ll keep one in until you can’t feel a thing, then I’ll take you up to the next size. You’ll work your way up, nice and easy.”

Seth didn’t know what to say. He was still staring at the contents of the case, his lips parted.

Frank’s fingers trailed around the rim of the case, mindlessly stroking it as he continued on about his plan. “It should take you a handful of days to get used to each size, or possibly a little over a week. You shouldn’t keep them in you for more than four or five hours at a time, but I want to do this fast, so you’ll be allowed no breaks aside from what you need to stay safe and avoid hurting yourself.”

Seth felt dizzy. He looked into Francis’ eyes but turned away once he saw Frank was looking at him. He didn’t want him to know just how scared he was of this, but he was sure Frank could easily tell.

Frank reached inside and picked up the first plug in the top row. It was much smaller than the one he’d held up previously, and this one was made of silicon, so it would be far easier to take. It was still a decently-sized little knot though, and no more than two and a half inches long, and it had a big flared base so it could stick out of his hole and be removed easily. 

Obviously, this was amateur-level stuff. But even so, Seth’s gut was knotted. He didn’t know if he could even take something that small.

“You’ll start with this little thing. No sweat.” Underwood smiled as he held it between his thumb and forefinger, holding it up for Seth to see. “I usually skip this size, but you’re _very_ new to this, aren’t you, Seth? I don’t want you to be in any pain, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Seth figured he should show gratitude for that, even though he wasn’t feeling particularly grateful right now. “Thanks,” he muttered. Even his voice was shaky.

Frank stood up and walked around the bed while Seth stayed in place. Once he was standing behind Seth, Frank used his hands to spread Seth’s legs a little more and then positioned the plug outside his lubed-up hole, which was still gaping just a little from being spread not much earlier.

It slipped right in, and the neck was narrow enough to give his anal muscles something to grip onto, which they did in complete alarm all on their own, desperate to get the intrusion out. The plug was just as unpleasant as the fingers and stretched him out even more. His hole was red and swollen around it, and his internal muscles were starting to spasm already.

Seth couldn’t hold back a groan even if he tried, which he didn’t. It was setting off all kinds of alarms in his brain. His body was rejecting it, he didn’t want it inside him at all. It felt like fire in him, and he wanted more than anything to reach back behind him and tug it out. His stomach and backside hurt, and he felt like he was going to be sick.

Francis used his thumb to push the base of the plug right up against the rim of Seth’s tight hole, so it was as deep in his as it could be. “It’s in,” Underwood said. 

If he weren’t in pain, Seth would have laughed. He was gripping onto the bed sheets with tight fists and clenching his teeth – obviously he _knew_ it was in without Underwood having to say it.

Francis grazed his thumb over the base over the plug again, teasing Seth’s tight and tender hole in the process. Seth was petrified he’d push it in further. “This goes without saying, but don’t let anyone know that this is inside you. You already have a good poker face and you’re an excellent liar, so I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with that.”

Underwood moved his hands to Seth’s spread thighs and closed them without warning. It increased the discomfort by a tenfold and Seth’s first instinct was to spread his legs again to ease the pain but Francis held him closed. It felt like he was closing even tighter around it, like it was sticking up inside of him and splitting him open. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to move, let alone stand up.

Seth groaned and buried his face into the sheets. His face was flushed hot from the pain and embarrassment. His eyes were closed so tight, and he felt so ashamed about how weak he was. “It fuckin’ hurts,” he mumbled, and it came out muffled against the mattress.

He felt a hand in his hair, just lacing through it, taking it in a loose, finger-parted handful and stroking lightly, and Seth loved it because he felt like a pet dog being wordlessly praised. His breathing was growing heavy.

Francis was not sympathetic. “I don’t want to hear that you’re messing with it in the bathroom or in your seat. And I don’t want you coming up here whining and begging me to take it out. You’re going to take this like a professional. 

The hand in his hair made a fist, gripping the dark locks tightly, knotting them up and jerking his head back a little. Seth gasped.

“I’m doing this for your own good. Do _not_ complain about this anymore,” Underwood ordered, clenching his fist tighter.

Seth held back a sob. “I won’t.”

Francis released him. “Sit up.”

It took Seth a moment to gain the courage, but once he did, he complied. He winced as he pushed himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. He could feel it in him, burning, his muscles tightening around it, desperate to push it out. His hands were balled into fists, his fingernails indenting into the insides of his palm.

Francis was more patient with him now. He waited until Seth was sitting up. He saw his white-knuckled grip on the edge of the bed and sighed. “Take a deep breath. Sit still, relax your insides.”

Seth took it slow. He focused on breathing. At first, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to sit up like this, but his body was actually getting used to it. The discomfort wasn’t going to stop any time soon, but the pain was decreasing as he tried his best to relax his muscles and take his body out of emergency alarm mode.

He found it easiest when he focused directly on it. The silicon gave it a degree of flexibility, so it wasn’t pushing against his prostate too hard, just nudging it. He was getting constant, dull pleasure from it. The pleasure wasn’t enough to even out the discomfort, but it was there.

He closed his eyes and thought about getting back to work. People would come in and out of his office all day. He’d give speeches to crowds of dozens of people. They would all see him, but none of them would know what he was going through or what was inside of him. It’d be under his clothes and out-of-sight, and if he kept a straight face, it would just be his and Underwood’s little secret. 

Seth thought about Doug. Doug would have no idea either. A feeling of smugness arose in Seth when he thought about how pissed off Doug would be to find out. Seth found himself smiling, excitement stirring up in him. He would look Doug straight in the eyes and Doug would be absolutely fucking clueless. It was just too good. 

A realization struck him like lightning. Seth Grayson was Vice President Underwood’s bitch, and nobody had a clue.

This was really getting him off. He shifted in his seat in such a way that the plug stuffing up his backside shifted and nudged his prostate just a little harder. His ass was still burning but the hint of pleasure sent a shockwave through his muscles. Doug would have no idea, all those people in the conference would have no idea. Seth loved to keep secrets.

Francis reached out and grazed his palm over Seth’s lap. Seth opened his eyes and felt pleasure wash over him - he didn’t even notice his dick had gotten hard from the fantasy. It was tenting his pants, the tip poking up just so, and Francis ran his hand over it again, more forcefully this time.

When Seth looked up from his lap to Underwood’s face, Francis was looking him right in the eyes, smirking. “Don’t start getting hard-ons at work, Seth. That’s unprofessional.”

Flushed in the face, Seth started to laugh. He knew Underwood wasn’t joking, but this whole situation was so weird and funny to him that he couldn’t help himself.

This wasn’t as funny to Francis, as it turned about, because his smile dropped. He then took his hand away before Seth could get any inclinations that he’d be given a handy. “Come back up at lunch time and I’ll give you a break. You wait until 12:30 exactly, then you come back here. I’ll be waiting for you, so be prompt.” He started to make his way towards the door, speaking one last order over his shoulder before exiting. “Oh, and bring the first drafts of the talking points for Friday’s conference.”

After Frank left and the door closed behind him, Seth realized he had no choice other than to get to work.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in two days (apr 20) it's my birthday so here's a gift to myself. im supposed to be working on other things but i just .. i needed to write this okay
> 
> oh and heads up, im introducing my favorite headcanon about seth in this chapter, which is that he has a southern accent he took classes to get rid of but it slips when he's upset/loses his cool. yes i do put enough thought into this show to develop headcanons about it. shout-out to derek cecil for having the cutest accent in the world and making my fantasies possible. his accent did used to slip in s2 and it always made me excited and happy but it doesnt happen much anymore, so this is my way of supplementing.

The training was going well, but it was still agonizing. It took longer than expected for Seth to get used to each new size plug. His body resisted each time. Each time, it felt like too much, like he was going to split open from the new size. But as each week went on, each day was easier and easier until he could barely feel that it was inside of him.

Francis trusted Seth with this, which was surprising, but Seth didn’t take advantage of that. He learned how to put them in himself at home so he didn’t need to go to Underwood’s office three times a day. He took his time and waited until he was ready to move up, then went to Frank to get the next size. He liked the privacy a lot better, and being whining mess while inserting was more comfortable it in his own home than under the gaze of Frank.

Seth was vigilant about it. He made sure to adhere to the strict regimen so he didn’t hurt himself and only took breaks when he absolutely needed to. No matter how hard it was, he never skipped a single day. This was partly because he was afraid his insides might tighten back to normal, but mostly because he thought that Underwood would somehow _know_.

The first days were usually the worst. It was hard to move and even harder to keep a poker face. All he could think about was how big the plug was inside of him compared to the sizes he’d received previously. If he focused on how it felt, his body temperature would raise and he’d get a little stiff right there at his desk or at the podium in front of the press corps – yes, he’d made that mistake before. At the same time, it was impossible to ignore the discomfort and even harder to ignore the pleasure it brought him to have his prostate constantly stimulated when nobody else knew about it at all.

This was one of those first days on a new size. This was only the fifth size in the set of fourteen and just as usual on his first days, Seth thought about quitting. He thought about telling Underwood he couldn’t take anymore, that this was the biggest he could go. It was basically agony. He could hardly move from his chair let alone give a speech of any kind. This one seemed to be harder than the ones before. It was jamming right up against his prostate, over-stimulating him to the point of pain. But he held his breath and held still. He couldn’t be conspicuous, he had work to do.

It was so distracting that Seth was barely paying attention to what Doug was saying when he came into the office in the morning with some quick briefings. He just rubbed at his eyes and breathed as lightly as he could and prayed that Doug would just leave.

Doug was standing in front of Seth’s desk and it didn’t seem like he was going anywhere soon. “People are coming in with lunch for the Joint Chiefs after the committee meeting. Do you want me to grab something for you?”

The last thing Seth wanted right now was to eat. The plug felt like it was so big it was making his stomach full, too. He was losing his appetite just thinking about it. “I’m fine,” he answered quickly.

As for most things regarding Doug, it wasn’t going to be that easy. “I’ll bring you half a sandwich. You should eat something.”

“No, thanks,” Seth said, a little more forcefully this time. He took his hand down and looked at his computer screen and pretended to read something important.

Doug wasn’t taking the hint. He did seem to notice that Seth was being distant, though. “Not feeling well?”

“I said I’m fine.” Seth suddenly remembered that one of the various stacks of papers on his desk needed to be delivered; this would provide him the perfect excuse to get rid of Doug. He picked up the stack of papers and held them out. “Are you going past Durant’s office? Can you give this to her aide?”

Doug’s compassion ended at the offer of lunch. “Do it yourself, Grayson. I’m not an errand boy.”

Seth sighed and put the paper back down on his desk. “Fine, I’ll make an intern do it.” He still refused to look at Stamper. “I was just asking a favor.”

“You’re in a bad mood today.” Doug folded his arms. “Why is that?”

Seth shifted in his seat – an instant mistake. The movement tilted the base of the plug so the silicon head rammed right up against his prostate. The sensation felt like blinding white heat – he was surprised he didn’t reflex-orgasm right there. His body clenched up all at once, clenching up around the plug seriously tight, straining already-tense muscles to a dangerous degree. 

Doug noticed Seth’s body language and looked at him suspiciously. “What’s wrong with you?”

Seth clenched his fists and breathed, slowly, to relax. “Are you leaving now? I’m busy.” That was definitely the wrong thing to say, and both of them knew it. 

Doug took two steps forward. His voice got angrier. “Don’t talk back at me. I’m your superior.” He wanted eye contact, but Seth was too stubborn to give it to him. “Why can’t you make the walk down the hall? I know you’re not lazy.”

“I have work to do,” Seth grumbled. His insides felt like they were burning now. He scrolled through his e-mail inbox to distract from the pain.

Realization crossed Doug’s face. He almost smiled. “He has you plugged up, doesn’t he?”

Seth clenched his fist. His stomach sunk all at once – he had not prepared to react to being found out. Some color rushed away from his face. “Will you be quiet?” he said through his teeth, shooting a glance to the door to make sure it was closed.

Doug laughed a little, beside himself that he hadn’t noticed before. “No wonder you’re all pissy and squirming in your seat. What size does he have you on?” He didn’t give Seth time to answer. “I bet he had to start you off on the smallest one. You still on that one now? Is that little thing causing you trouble?”

This was the last topic Seth wanted to discuss right now. He was deeply embarrassed to have been figured out so easily. Doug was an observant person, but it still hurt. This shame plus the discomfort and pain was really testing Seth’s ability to keep calm. He was usually a very cool and relaxed person, even in the face of tension – he’d always thought that to be one of his best qualities.

But right now, he wasn’t feeling calm at all. His ass was on fire, and he was in no mood to be demeaned. Seth glared over at Stamper. “Are you jealous he’s not giving you attention, too?”

Unsurprisingly, Doug wasn’t daunted in the slightest. “Are you kidding me? I have the biggest size up in me right now.” That immediately made Seth look away. Doug didn’t stop there. “He saves the middle-sized one for Ed Meechum, likes to keep him comfortable since he’s on his feet all day.”

Honestly, Seth would have been better off not knowing that. He pretended to look at his computer but he was so perturbed that he couldn’t focus on the words. He thought about Doug, about how much was packed up his backside, how he wasn’t even flinching or giving any hint – Seth would never have known if he wasn’t told just now. And Meechum, too? The thought of him, standing sentinel at a doorway, gun strapped at his hip, stuffed up probably to plug up a fresh load of come Underwood had just dumped inside of him…

Seth could feel his cheeks getting warm. This was too much information all at once. His pants started to tighten at the zipper.

Doug walked around Seth’s desk and took a seat on the edge, right in front of the computer, facing him, looking down at him with cold eyes. “The moral is, you’re not special, Grayson.”

Seth made a face at him. He was losing his cool scary quick. He scooted back in his chair a little, inching away from the desk, and just glared at Doug, silently hoping he would just leave.

Doug narrowed his eyes disapprovingly. “Look at you. You can barely take it. How do you think you’ll be able to take his whole cock if you can’t even do this?”

Afraid he would go off if he held in his frustration any longer, Seth finally just told him off, keeping his voice steady and level and stern. “Shut up. You’re just deflecting. You’re upset because there’s someone else in the mix threatenin’ to keep you away from your beloved Vice President. Don’t think I don’t notice. You’re green-eyed. It’s childish and pathetic.”

Surprisingly, Doug wasn’t ticked off by this. In fact, his expression was that of mild confusion. “Did you…” He paused, trying to assemble himself. ”Did you just put on an accent?”

All of the frustration went away and replaced itself with puzzlement, and then horror. Shit, did the accent come out? Seth had taken countless classes to get rid of the southern drawl in his voice, but sometimes when he was upset or frantic, it slipped. 

Feeling trapped, Seth pretended like he didn’t know what Doug was talking about, to cover this up. “What are you talking about?” he said in his doctored, accent-less voice, glancing away.

Doug’s confusion turned into amusement. “Oh, my god. You have an accent. You’re from Texas, right?”

Seth disliked being humiliated, especially about this. He looked back at Doug, trying to plead with his gaze for him to drop this. “Is this really relevant right now?” he sighed.

“Did you take classes, to try and lose it? It comes out when you’re upset?” Stamper gave him no pause to answer, not like Seth wanted or needed to anyway. “Mr. Underwood is going to love this.”

Seth shook his head and looked away. “I can’t believe you’re being this petty. That you’re making fun of me for this.”

Doug kept his eyes on Seth. “I’m not making fun of you.” He sounded genuine. “I think it’s adorable.”

Seth’s stomach twisted. His head felt a little light, his body temperature raised a little. Fuck. He _really_ liked hearing that. His ears were almost ringing, it was making his heart flutter. He put his hands on the armrests of his chair and gripped a little, trying to distract himself.

All of those little body movements, Doug noticed them. “You like to hear that?” he asked in a hushed voice, just as sweet, just as enticing.

Seth closed his eyes, trying to breathe. He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t let Doug get to him like this. It would turn their contest of power right on its head. Seth realized, kind of terrified, that it was exactly what he wanted.

Seth took a small breath. “Say it again?” he begged quietly. It just slipped out, he didn’t mean to say it. But he didn’t regret it either.

Doug wasn’t taking the bait, not yet. He folded his arms and looked down at Seth with a bit of pity. “How much is up inside of you right now? Are you being filled up?”

Seth could feel it inside of him still, it wasn’t going anywhere. It was firm and solid and made him feel so full. His internal muscles were burning around it, completely seized up, the rings of smooth muscle stretched out more than they ever had been before. Seth loved every second of the pain. He nodded slowly.

Doug scooted over to the side, to the middle of the desk, so they were closer. “Could you take more?”

Seth opened his eyes. He was looking directly at Doug’s slightly spread legs, how his slacks were tight around his crotch, how his shirt was tucked in beneath the belt hugging his waist. He thought of reaching out and loosening the belt. He thought of unbuttoning Stamper’s slacks and pulling him close. “Will you give me more?” 

Doug seemed a little taken aback. “Fuck no. Of course not.” Seth’s stomach sunk. Doug, in some wave of mercy, maybe felt bad that he’d hurt Seth’s feelings. “You’re getting excited, because you’re plugged up, so I’ll let that slide.”

Seth’s voice was growing weaker by the second. “Please, Doug. I want you.”

“You sound like a slut right now.”

“Don’t you like that?”

Doug wasn’t amused. His voice went dark. “You’re such a little bitch. You have no idea what I could do to you.”

Dirty talk always had a special way of completely ruining Seth. Even little bits of it like this; being in a public setting, fully clothed, Doug looking down at him and being the authority figure that he was – all of it was getting Seth off. His cock was getting stiff, stuffing up his pants. He tightened up a little more around the plug and it sucked in a bit, nudging against his prostate again.

“Spread your legs,” Doug ordered.

Seth spread his legs. It made his hole a little wider and the pain around his rim eased up, but the biggest difference was between his legs, where his hard cock created a noticeable, swollen and sensitive bulge. 

Doug’s eyes were fixated between Seth’s legs. “You are excited. And bigger than I’d imagined.” Despite his words, he didn’t seem impressed, just unsurprised.

Seth raised an eyebrow. “You’ve imagined?”

Doug wasn’t amused and didn’t answer. “Your accent is coming out again,” he warned.

At this point, Seth didn’t even care. It had been weeks of keeping these plugs inside of him, and not a second of being touched or fucked by anyone but the stroke of his own hand. He was absolutely desperate to the point of begging. 

Right now, he didn’t even know what he wanted. He thought he was being trained to take Underwood, and he thought he wanted that above all else. But now he was thinking of Doug. Seth could dominate him so easily; he could grab him by the hips and pull him onto his lap right now. Seth was bigger than him, probably stronger. Doug would be able to take Seth’s huge cock, or maybe he’d whine a bit, muscle through it, but Seth knew that Stamper loved to be topped. Or Doug could get on his knees, take Seth into his mouth like he did with Underwood so often. Seth fantasized about Doug taking the plug out and fucking him, bending him over the desk. Seth wanted so badly to be finally fucked, he’d take anything now; nothing could be worse than this. He would just let himself be wrecked. He wanted to be stretched out even more, if Doug wanted to use his hands or his tongue or his cock, Seth didn’t care. 

Seth’s heart was starting to beat even faster. He looked up at Doug and licked his lips. “Please?” he asked. He didn’t specify, just resigned himself that little plea in hopes that Stamper would do something, anything.

Doug moved his leg and placed it on the edge of the seat of the chair Seth was sitting in. Then he took his foot and gently rested the bottom of his shoe on Seth’s tender, swollen package, then dug his heel forward a little to put threatening pressure on Seth’s balls. 

The touch was more than enough, and it created a feeling of submission that made it feel like Seth’s tie was constricting around his throat. “Stamper…” he whimpered. He spread his legs a little more and shifted forward in his seat, pressing his crotch harder against the flat of Doug’s foot. It hurt, but the pressure was undeniably relieving; best of all was the dynamic it created between them, the twist of fear in Seth’s gut. 

Doug was borderline apathetic. Somehow, that made him even sexier. “Didn’t Underwood warn you not to get hard while you work?” It was an order he had probably received too.

“Yes,” Seth answered breathlessly. He didn’t care what the rules were right now.

Doug dug his heel a little harder into Seth’s sensitive sack, sending a wave of pain through him. “You’ve disobeyed him. He won’t like that.”

Seth felt shame twisting him up, but he liked it, he wanted more of it. “This is the first time,” he admitted softly.

“Because I’m here?”

“Yes.”

“He’ll like that even less.”

Doug’s grip was on the edge of the desk. His gaze was still cold and stern and meeting it made Seth tense up with chills. “How long have you been all swollen up like this?” Doug’s voice was low and unkind as always. Seth’s cock was heavy and full beneath the flat of his foot. “How many hours do you have to hide this big, swollen cock under your desk, keeping your hands away and stomaching the pain?” 

As Doug pressed just a bit harder, Seth bit his tongue. He let his head fall back, he couldn’t handle keeping Stamper’s gaze any longer. He placed one hand on the top of Doug’s shoe and curled his fingers around the shiny black leather.

“You like this? Are you going come for me just from being stepped on?”

“Yeah…” Seth’s grip on the armrest of his chair and the width of Doug’s shoe was white-knuckled. His dick was already leaking at the tip, bent a little under the firm pressure crushing his sack. “Harder…”

Doug’s voice was starting to soften, but his touch wasn’t. “I know the training is hard,” he sympathized, reminding Seth of the pressure up his backside all over again. “And it’s going to get even harder. When you get to the biggest sizes, it’s the worst. You go numb. You go blind with pure desire for relief. But you have to focus on your job, and you have to do your work.”

The helplessness was pushing Seth to the edge. He was surrendering to Doug completely, he loved being at his mercy, in this position of vulnerability. This pressure on his cock, the pain digging into his sack, all combined with his muscles starting to give out and spasm around the thick plug - it was way too much for him. Seth was going to nut right in his pants, empty a creamy hot mess on his lap.

“Underwood won’t relieve you from it,” Doug warned, and if Seth wasn’t totally losing his mind right now, he would have noticed the compassion in Doug’s tone. “He’ll take it out at the end of the day and your hole will be gaping and ready and he won’t do a damn thing for you. So don’t get your hopes up. Ever.”

Doug removed his foot.

Seth’s eyes shot open. The pressure on his cock lifted and was replaced by more pain, his balls aching from being roughed around and his cock so hard and sensitive and aching for relief. His stomach sunk, he felt even more helpless than before, like he’d been played for a fool.

Folding his arms, Doug leaned forward in his seat on the desk. Both feet were firmly planted on the ground now. “Get used to this feeling. This helplessness, this hurt.”

Seth didn’t say anything. His lips were parted a little, to accommodate his genuine shock and the arousal still pumping through him. He felt hurt beyond the physical pain, like Doug had denied him out of spite.

It wasn’t spite, though. It was a lesson. “Francis will hurt you.” Doug looked away. “When you think he’s taking care of you, when you think he really loves you, he’s going to turn it on its head and break your heart.”

Seth understood. He felt short-handed, but he did understand. “Thanks for the warning,” he mumbled begrudgingly. 

Doug didn’t have anything else to say; he’d made his case. He stood up and started to make his way out of Seth’s office, silently. He had no plans to say goodbye or anything at all.

Before Doug could open the door and leave, Seth called out to him. “I don’t love him like you do.”

Doug stopped in his tracks. He didn’t turn around. “Good.”

“He doesn’t love you back,” Seth finished. Doug didn’t say anything. Seth watched his body language, unchanging. “I think you already know that.”

The moment of quiet didn’t linger on much longer. Doug was back in motion. He opened the door, and, before exiting, ordered, “Get back to work, Seth.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: i confess this was originally just going to be a fic giving me an excuse to exploit seth sexually in a variety of ways but i'm developing a bit of a heart for it so now i have to actually take care of the plot. so in an effort to have things make chronological sense i switched all the previous chapters to take place while frank was vice president. no big deal, doesn't change anything content-wise, i just thought it'd make more sense.
> 
> so heres an update for the first time in like a month, ft. ed meechum and some sexual tension

The sun was setting behind the line of houses down the Underwoods’ street, and in response the row of street lamps sparked and powered up, dimly at first, then to their full brightness, as Seth exited his parked car and approached the residence.

Edward Meechum was at his post by the door, as usual. He gave Seth a sideways glance and furrowed his brow, adjusting his earpiece out of habit.

Seth tried to act natural. “Hey, Meechum, how’s it going? Can I come in?”

Ed wasn’t receptive to the greetings at all. He paused for a second then shook his head a little. “I wasn’t told that you’d be coming over.” Even his voice sounded innocent. Seth wondered how a man like Frank could be so attracted to and compatible with someone as sweet as Edward.

“No, I wasn’t invited,” Seth admitted with a sigh. “I just thought I’d stop by.” He walked up the steps and got closer to him, on the small front porch by the front door. 

Now that they were closer, Seth could really get a better look at him. Edward really was a good-looking man; Seth didn’t know why he hadn’t taken the time to notice before. He wore a suit well, was probably more than decade younger than everyone else in the administration, and was particularly fit and handsome. His kind doe eyes and innocent expression contrasted against the powerful black pistol strapped to his hip, resulting in a deeply smitten mix of cold and warm feelings which stirred up a storm in Seth.

The trance of thought was cut off when Edward asked in a concerned, hesitant voice, “Mr. Grayson, are you drunk?”

Just barely, was the truth. He’d just spent a few hours at a bar, alone, to unwind by sitting in silence watching the Nationals game on TV and playing a few rounds of pool. He had been drinking, almost begrudgingly, as a method of getting rid of stress. Seth didn’t like drinking past the point of getting buzzed. He liked being in control of his emotions and actions, and he hated appearing disheveled or manipulable. 

Seth refused to answer. His impatience was building. “Just let me in.”

Meechum repositioned himself in front of the door in case Seth made any moves to open it. “I can’t let you inside unless I receive orders from Mr. or Mrs. Underwood,” he explained dutifully. “Claire isn’t home right now and Francis is upstairs, so-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Seth cut him off. He took a breath and maintained a measure of decorum. “I’m not here to see him, I’m here to see Doug.” Seth couldn’t remember at the moment exactly why he wanted to see him, only that he needed to. “He’s here, right?”

“I don’t think I’m allowed to answer that.”

Seth gestured behind him to the street where Doug’s Lincoln was parked. “I can see his car. I know he’s here.”

Meechum frowned a little. “I’m sorry, Mr. Grayson, but this is a matter of protocol. I can’t let you in without an affirmation from Mr. Underwood. If you wait here for a moment, I can go retrieve him.” He opened the door and started to go inside, but paused to wait for Seth’s response.

Seth was starting to feel a little dizzy. He felt that maybe the frustration heating up his blood was saturating the alcohol level, if that was possible. He was starting to get ticked off for no reason at all, and he knew it, but it didn’t stop him. He glared at Meechum accusingly. “Oh, please. I know what this is. You’re jealous because I get to go up there, I get to spend time with him, when he doesn’t want you anymore.”

Edward flushed. He stopped in his tracks, half inside the house and half still on the stairs. “Excuse me?”

Meechum’s reaction was enough of an answer, and exactly what Seth was looking for. “Thought so,” he said smugly.

Ed glanced over his shoulder and into the house to make sure nobody was listening in. He turned back to Seth and lowered his voice to almost a whisper. He did well not to get upset with Seth, and instead remained considerate. “If they started without you, you shouldn’t go in. It’ll just make you feel worse.”

Though Meechum was trying to be polite and helpful, Seth didn’t want to hear a word of it. “You know that from experience, huh?”

They were interrupted by footsteps inside the house.

The pacing down the staircase was light and quick, so it definitely didn’t belong to Francis. It was Doug who appeared in the doorway, opening the front door the rest of the way and trying to silently read the conversation he just butted into before deciding he wanted no part in it. He looked at Seth. “I thought I heard your voice. What are you doing here?”

Seth was suddenly worried that Doug might not have been the only one who had heard what he was saying. He looked into the house and up the stairs to see if he could spot any more movement. “Are you with Underwood?”

“He’s in the study upstairs. We were discussing how to proceed with the interview with Ayla Sayyad.” He squinted a little, noticing that something was off in Seth’s body language. “Are you okay?”

Okay? Seth just stared at him, blinking slowly. No, he didn’t feel okay. The more he thought about it and focused on it, the worse he felt. He attempted to focus on what he’d heard – Sayyad, reporter for the Telegraph. Seth had arranged the interview himself, it was to be conducted here at the residence, in Underwood’s living room, and he’d be asked about Walker and Tusk and impeachment rumors… 

A wave of nausea hit him. He feared maybe he was going to be sick. He tried to remember the drive over here and how stupid it had been to get into a car, and that regret and anxiety just upset his stomach even more.

It was taking Seth too long to answer. Doug furrowed his brow. “You know the rules: only come when called, and don’t show up here unless you’re invited.” Doug looked him over suspiciously. “Why are you here, Seth?” he asked for the second time.

That was a good question. Seth opened his mouth but for once didn’t have anything to say.

It was coming back to him now. It had been a painfully long day at work, and for some reason he was feeling particularly lonely – waves of it hit him periodically, and going home to an empty apartment never helped. To make it worse, today was one of Seth’s off days, where he didn’t have to wear a plug, but these days no longer served as relief to him, now they were torture. He spent the entire day feeling empty and desperate for something to be inside him. 

Consequently, after a few drinks, his mind didn’t trail to thoughts of Frank, instead it went right to Doug. He was sitting at that bar, losing count on the number of drinks building up on his tab, isolation building up in him, his mind drifting, and Stamper was all he could think about despite how hard he tried to push him away.

He’d thought of Doug’s eyes, searing, burning into his own as he sat on Seth’s desk and planted his foot into Seth’s crotch. He thought of Doug grabbing him by the belt and pulling him close, getting on his knees and taking Seth’s entire cock deep in his throat. He thought of bending Stamper over the arm of a couch and fucking hard into him, of Doug giving him a rough handy with those strong hands of his, of Doug spreading Seth’s legs and pushing his underwear to the side and fucking him rough and bareback. All of the fantasies had made his heart race and his body temperature rise and made him want to seclude himself even more, and nobody had approached him at the bar because he was a flushed mess all scrunched up and embarrassed with his own thoughts, intimidatingly unapproachable.

Thinking back, he wasn’t sure what he had hoped to gain by coming to find Doug, showing up uninvited at the residence just to see him. What did he think was going to happen? None of those fantasies were going to be filled – Seth was drunk, not delusional. Maybe he just wanted to see him, to see his face. Seth was feeling so lonely. He thought, maybe, that would be enough to help.

Seth was desperate to make sure Doug never heard that explanation or caught wind of it, but he was too incoherent to come up with a lie, so he kept his mouth shut.

Doug was growing impatient, but didn’t seem to care enough to learn the truth. He stepped outside to join them on the porch and closed the door, in case Francis was listening in from upstairs. Doug gave Meechum a look. “Is he harassing you?”

Seth almost laughed. He answered for him. “I’m not the type of guy who harasses people.” He was actually a little offended that Doug had accused him of something like that.

Edward shrugged and spoke for himself. “I don’t know. I do feel a little harassed.” He smiled teasingly, but it wasn’t cute, just annoying.

Seth’s expression soured. “I’ve never liked you.”

Doug cut this off. He had no tolerance for petty arguments. “Seth. I don’t like asking things multiple times. Are you going to tell me why you came here, or not?” He didn’t want to give him pause to zone out again. “Did you need to talk to Frank?”

This time, it was Ed who answered for Seth. “Mr. Grayson said he wanted to talk to you, Doug.”

Seth’s stomach turned. “No,” he protested frantically, “I didn’t say that.” 

He hoped Edward would take the hint and shut up, but Meechum owed Seth no favors. “Yes you did.”

Seth shot him an ice cold glare. “You are seriously getting on my nerves,” he warned.

Doug sighed audibly. “Cool it, Grayson.”

That only made it worse. Ed and Doug were both staring at him and Seth could have sworn they were glaring. He didn’t ask to be scrutinized like this, to be told to relax. They were making a scene out of nothing. “Fuck off.” He gestured loosely to Meechum. “He’s only starting shit with me because he’s upset he doesn’t get to sit on daddy’s cock whenever he wants anymore-”

In a heartbeat, Doug had Seth by the collar and spun him around, forcing him backward so his back was up against the door, pinning him. It threw off Seth’s balance and he would have fallen on his ass if Doug weren’t putting all his weight against him to restrain him. He made a fist around Seth’s collar, constricting his throat just enough that he could still breathe, only barely, like he was inhaling through a drinking straw.

Before Seth could even process what was happening, Doug was leaning in close. He spoke a warning through his teeth. “Treat him with respect.” The message was clear, but Doug wasn’t done. He looked Seth dead in the eyes. “None of us gets special treatment. If you keep behaving like this, you will lose all privileges faster than you can blink.”

Aside from being humiliated, Seth was completely taken aback. He was shocked at how physically strong Doug had to be to pull a move like this; Seth had underestimated him because of his size and was now a mix of scared and impressed, and a little aroused. He allowed himself to be pinned, to be choked out. He relaxed his muscles at allowed Doug’s body to get closer.

Instead of putting a stop to the aggression, which was literally his job, Meechum played good cop. “We’re all on the same team, Mr. Grayson. Francis wouldn’t like it if we were to start fighting.” Doug shot Edward a glare that told him not to get involved, and Ed immediately shut up.

 _Start_ fighting? There had been tension between Doug and Seth since the beginning. Frank most definitely knew about it, he could probably smell it on them. Seth almost smiled. As much as he hated conflict, he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed tension. If there had to be sexual tension between himself and Edward on top of what was brewing between himself and Doug, he could handle it. 

Doug saw the amusement in Seth’s eyes and the pressure heightened. His body was close and warm, heated up from the anger he was feeling. “Listen carefully. Whether you came here to see Frank or to see me, I don’t care. He doesn’t want you. He’s never going to want you. And I don’t want you - especially not when you’re acting like this and smelling like a cheap bar.” He inched closer, his breath hot on Seth’s neck. “Your behavior is unattractive and unprofessional. I don’t want to see this happen ever again. Do you understand?”

Edward had seen enough. He was feeling guilty for not intervening. “Mr. Stamper, I think that’s enough.” His voice was hesitant, not assertive, so he obviously didn’t want to see this stop too badly.

Doug let up his grip but didn’t budge in his stance. “Tell me you understand,” he commanded.

Seth swallowed hard. He could hear his own heart in his ears. “I understand.” His hands were at his sides. They felt empty. He felt a drive, a strong desire to do something with them, so he reached out and placed them on Doug’s hips.

The air stilled. Doug didn’t protest or even flinch. Seth wanted to dig his hands in, to pull him closer so their lower halves would meet, but there wasn’t enough courage in him to take that step. The few inches between them seemed to shrink nonetheless, the air in that fraction of a distance spiked in temperature. Ed was watching, a little horrified that maybe this would set Doug off to more aggression, but said nothing.

The long pause lingered on until Doug effectively broke it. He tightened the fist around Seth’s collar even more, bunching up his shirt and sky blue tie, choking him out fully now, with as much force as he could. “You need to learn to behave,” he growled.

Seth removed his hands from Doug’s waist and reached up to his own throat, desperately. He closed his eyes tight, grimacing, what little coherence he had in his dizzy head focused now on writhing free. He was not stronger than Doug. Seth was entirely at his mercy – and he fucking loved it. 

Doug released him after no more than a few more moments. He stepped back, allowing Seth room to cough out his lungs and take in as much air as he could all at once. Doug looked to Edward. “Put someone on your post, then take Seth home. He’s in no shape to drive.”

“Yes, sir,” Edward said to Doug, who opened the door and disappeared back inside the house. 

The sun was gone now, the sky a bluish black. As he was escorted back to his car, Seth could have sworn he saw Meechum smirking, amused. Seth couldn’t really blame him, as he felt like doing the same thing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Season 3 spoilers begin here!]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from the dead* hi here's an exposition/transition chapter between approx. halves of the story
> 
> finals are over and i havent slept in a week so idk what im doing but uhh.. this is a mini character study/focus on seth because im in love with him. still. smfh.

That confrontation on the Underwoods’ front porch was one of the last times Seth saw Doug.

Right before Frank assumed office as President, Doug had vanished. Surprisingly, Seth had found his prolonged absence strange far before anyone else did; it had only been a few hours of Doug not checking in when Seth started to have a strange feeling about it. As the hours got longer and turned into days, his absence grew more and more noticeable. 

The air was at its emptiest at the swearing-in at Camp David. Doug should have been there, right by Frank’s side just like Claire and Meechum were. 

From the crowd, Seth had observed the image of this group from afar and instead of feeling the noticeable, almost tangible physical distance he stood from that center frame, he was fixated on the emptiness of seeing three standing at the podium instead of four.

Though extremely busy with other matters in the days that followed, Frank had put a great deal of worry and effort into finding his friend. A week passed, and Seth, for a fraction of a second, wished that Frank would forget about it, wished that he would find a new Chief of Staff and get on with the important duties he now had on his plate. 

Frank did not give up, however – they released an APB on his car and issued an ATL to the police department in Lynchberg and in five surrounding cities. Federal intervention beefed up the search, and they eventually found him. 

Seth received a briefing on the situation just like everyone else did. He may have gotten the personal touch by receiving the news from Frank directly, but the information didn’t feel very personal. 

It all felt detached, like it was a reality someone else was living, a thrice-removed story he was being told. For a while, Seth couldn’t wrap his head around the details, as if they were misplaced facts that belonged in a separate, distant context.

In a lot of ways, Seth felt distant and removed in exactly the same way.

A deeply familial relationship played out right before his eyes, one that he’d only seen fragments and hints of previously. Now it couldn’t be hidden. Francis demanded updates on Doug’s condition daily when his condition was at its worst, but as he got better the check-ins became more periodic. Despite his busy schedule and the ordeal that accompanied even the most minor instances of Presidential travel, both Frank and Claire had come to visit Doug multiple times despite Doug being asleep for all of them. They’d even sent a gorgeous bouquet of flowers for him to wake up to if he happened to awaken when the Underwoods themselves were not present.That was real devotion, real trust and friendship and love – things Seth knew he could never have with the Underwoods, at least not on Doug’s level. 

As much as he hated succumbing to pettiness, Seth couldn’t help but to be deeply envious of what he witnessed. He hoped the envy didn’t stink off of him, but Francis knew green eyes when he saw them. Luckily, neither of them said a word.

Seth never went to see Doug, not even once. The hospital wasn’t very far away from Seth’s own studio apartment, actually; right down the block from his building, a few minutes’ walk west. Still, Seth never made the trip. 

He didn’t feel guilty about it, either. At least he didn’t allow himself to, not to enough of a degree that it mattered. 

Though Seth thought about Stamper more often that he’d like to admit, logically he knew going to see him wouldn’t do either of them much good. Seth would just leave the place feeling embarrassed and awkward and mad at himself, and Doug wouldn’t have known either way. He wondered if Doug would do the same for him, but couldn’t come up with a definite answer.

He hated that he allowed himself to be bothered by this. At times he felt that pettiness was the only thing holding him back from visiting. But that wasn’t true.

Seth often pictured the white-walled hospital room, Claire and Francis and Doug inside, Edward at the door, flowers and get-well-soon cards decorating the place like offerings in an ancient tomb, Doug opening his eyes – which he did, Seth was told, after quite a long time – and finally regaining coherence and his ability to speak – he did that too, but that took even longer. He pictured Claire taking Doug by the hand, Francis gently stroking his face with the ridges of his knuckles, and Doug smiling up at them (if Doug was even capable of smiling; Seth had never seen it happen). The image might have seemed picture-perfect, but it wasn’t far-fetched. It was what ran through Seth’s mind when he was too slow to keep his thoughts from wandering. 

Part of Seth’s reluctance to visit was that he didn’t feel like he belonged. He simply could not imagine himself standing in that room. The closeness and care seemed like a foreign concept to him, like hearing words in a language long dead. Intimacy wasn’t exactly repulsive to him, but repelling, the way magnets forced each other away when urged too close. Or maybe that was just how he felt about Doug.

How he felt about Doug was an entirely different story, one not even Seth could spin. Thinking about it got him nowhere. 

There were lots of ways to get rid of those intrusive thoughts. To distract himself he used aged brandy and treated himself by closing his eyes, curling a fist around his cock, and tugging one out at the end of an hour-long shower. For negative reinforcement he used Lone Star – piss wash beer that was popular for god knows what reason back home in Texas; actual swill he loathed the taste of, not just because it reminded him of home but also because it was literally disgusting – a good punishment for accumulating guilt over how he felt, and it was repellant to feelings in general. Getting drunk off of that cheap beer made it easier to cry, too, and even easier to make excuses for his gross sob-fest when he woke up blindly hung over and red-eyed the morning after. 

It wasn’t just his thoughts making him feel worse. Work contributed to that as well.

Being named Comms Director was definitely a victory and an honor, but it wasn’t a title like Chief of Staff. No, Frank gave that job to someone else.

Remy fucking Danton. If it had to be someone outside of the administration, why did it have to be him? Some deals must have been made, some things promised, things that Seth’s one foot inside the inner circle didn’t provide enough access to. 

Seth would have been happier if Frank had put Ed Meechum, who had exactly zero experience in politics, as his Chief of Staff, honestly – at least he was someone they could all trust. Remy was a professional, but he was an outsider and had been doing far more harm than good to Frank as of late.

In the first moment they spent alone since they’d last worked together ages ago, Seth closed the door and said all those things straight to Remy’s face. 

Remy didn’t say a word and didn’t have to; he had a hot stare that said it all. Seth was being a hypocrite, they both knew it. Remy could preach distrust and play the Tusk card right back at Seth. 

Not to mention, it wasn’t Seth’s place to question Remy or Francis. It had taken a while for Seth to learn his place, but he finally had, as much as he absolutely loathed it. Remy’s glare sealed the veritable diploma, certifying Seth’s new proficiency in workplace submission.

It got worse than that. Frank was busier now than ever, naturally, and now had no inclination to invite Seth up to his study. As it seemed, Meechum wasn’t getting personal attention either. Edward didn’t share his heartbreak with Seth except for in a silent way, and Seth felt for him, for he’d admittedly grown fond of the Secret Service agent.

There was an increased presence of Thomas Yates, whose books Seth was actually a pretty big fan of, but as Yates’ presence grew more and more frequent and noticeable, Seth’s interest in meeting the author was thinning into disdain. Edward had actually stepped into Seth’s office one afternoon to privately inform him that the meetings between Yates and Underwood had frequently been held in Frank’s private study. Meechum didn’t have to elaborate or specify for Seth to understand what that meant.

There were too many things bothering Seth right now, and now that he was at the executive level of press relations, there were no days off, so he couldn’t lose focus on something like that. It wasn’t any of Seth’s business, after all, and he felt he may have been better off not knowing about this one. 

Edward took it more personally, though. It showed in his body language, sometimes presenting in anger, sometimes in sadness. Seth felt bad enough to consider getting Meechum alone and maybe spending time together with him, privately, to an end they both would have read as mutually beneficial. 

In the end, Seth decided against it, for the time being, because he just couldn’t find the time for it right now, just like he couldn’t find time for feelings, both physical and emotional. He wouldn’t make time for them, either. He knew his place now. And his place required one thing above all else: heartlessness.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i mention ALL of my hoc fics all take place in the same au/timeline? it's all one big canon. yeah. the canon in my dirty mind (the only canon that matters imo).

Mutual feelings of neglect brought Seth and Edward together sooner rather than later.

With Edward, Seth finally learned the true meaning of mutuality Underwood had spoken of all those months ago. Compared to how this felt, being with Frank was, in retrospect, draining and impersonal. If it took Tom Yates’ interference for Seth to realize this – and for Edward to realize, too - then Seth was actually thankful for the author.

Surely, their relationship was sex-driven, but sometimes Seth and Ed didn’t even fuck. They just fell asleep together. Edward liked cuddling, which Seth wasn’t particularly fond of, but it wasn’t a difficult sacrifice to make. Just sleeping with someone, in the same bed, their body heat and breathing beside you, that was enough to make the loneliness disappear and the pain go away.

Being with him so intimately, being inside him, heat and sweat sticking skin together beneath the sheets – it made working with him different. It didn’t change the work environment, because they were always professional, but seeing him in a suit and tie, standing stoically at his post, it made Edward look like a different person than the one who, naked, flushed, and flirty, climbed into Seth’s bed for pleasure and safety. 

Seth’s collar always felt tighter, looking over at him. Layers of clothes separated them now. This difference of distance sometimes left a strange, unfamiliar taste in Seth’s mouth, like his tongue was yearning for something that wasn’t there, something misplaced.

Spending time with Edward came naturally, and made stomaching those strange feelings much easier.

In these summer months, the gardeners put out chairs and tables around the Rose Garden for White House staff to use as they pleased. Edward liked to take his lunch breaks out there. Without being asked to, Seth sometimes came out and joined him, purposefully rearranging his schedule so that his and Edward’s lined up, not like he made a point of letting Ed know that.

Whether or not Frank knew about this was unknown, but Seth had gotten to the point where he didn’t really care anyway. _Anything_ was better than eating alone in his goddamn window-less office.

Not to mention, Meechum was actually pretty good company. Seth came to learn that the stoic, silent Secret Service agent not only had opinions of his own, but also a sense of humor. Most importantly, he kept his eyes and ears open and, naturally, saw _everything_. Seth’s guilty pleasure was gossip, which was powerful in itself, so it turned out that Edward was a valuable friend to have.

The sky was blue through the clouds and the weather was genuinely perfect for a picnic. This afternoon, Seth was eating leftovers he nuked in the microwave along with his third cup of coffee of the day. Edward was eating a sandwich he made himself, ham and cheese on white bread – a downright boring appetite no doubt coarsened by years in the military.

They didn’t talk about work while out here, and sometimes they didn’t talk at all, but Seth felt like gauging him a bit today. “What do you think of Remy Danton?” He spoke with his mouth half-full – a habit bred into him from back home, one that came out when he was nice and comfortable.

Edward’s eyes trailed across the garden as he furrowed his brow and thought about an answer. “I don’t know,” he answered – his go-to reply used as filler before he openly shared his mind. “Remy was part of the administration way before my time and yours.” He looked back at Seth, unsure. “I know that he’s smart. He seems very serious. Sometimes sad.” Ed paused to shrug again. “I guess I trust him, because Francis does.”

Seth glanced at him suggestively. “Do you know if he and Underwood ever…”

“Ever what?” Ed asked, pure and innocent, then immediately caught on. “Oh. Oh, no, I don’t think so. Remy doesn’t seem like the type. I don’t think he’s Francis’ type either.”

Did Frank Underwood really have a type? Probably. Men like him tended to. Seth was curious to hear it. “Why not?”

Ed gave that cute half-shrug again. “I just can’t picture him getting on his knees willingly.”

He didn’t know how wrong he was. Too relaxed to feel the need to hide what he was thinking and feeling, Seth felt a smile crossing his face before he could stop it. He hoped Edward wouldn’t notice, but no dice – he noticed everything.

“What? Why are you smiling?” It took him a moment to catch on to this one, but once he did, he flushed. “You… you and Remy!?”

“Just once,” Seth confessed. “A few years ago.”

After processing the information, Meechum looked ill. “I wish you hadn’t told me that.” That got a laugh out of Seth. Ed thought about it some more and overcame his shock. “How can you even work with him without thinking about it?”

That was a good question, one that Seth hadn’t even thought about until now. “You work with Frank, don’t you?”

“That’s different.”

“Remy and I are professionals. It’s in the past.”

Edward dropped the topic, but he still seemed distressed by it. Seth didn’t expect him to understand. Edward was one of the few people in Washington who had a heart. Ironically, Remy Danton was one of those people, too.

They were quiet for a long moment after that. Seth looked off into the garden, sipping at his coffee, now grossly lukewarm. They weren’t alone out here, but nobody was in earshot. A warm breeze passed them, tousling their hair. Seth put a hand up to fix his own and kept quiet.

Meechum’s expression showed that he was still a little upset. “I guess I don’t like Remy,” he decided, out of the blue.

Seth raised an eyebrow. “Are you jealous?” He prayed the answer was no. 

“I’m not jealous.” He answered fast enough for Seth to believe him. “I just think that, as far as trust goes, our administration should stay close and safe, just a few of us. No Remy Danton. No Tom Yates.” That sounded personal. “I mean, I don’t know much about politics, but I don’t understand why Mr. Danton got the Chief of Staff job in the first place.”

“Oh, that’s not politics,” Seth clarified, “That’s patronage.”

Edward didn’t comment on that because he probably wasn’t sure what it meant. He looked down at what was left of his food. “I just think that the Chief of Staff job should have gone to someone else.”

Seth couldn’t risk giving any inclination that he agreed. “Well, Doug is…” He chose his words carefully. “Missing in action.”

“Not Doug.” Edward met his eyes. “You.”

Instantly, Seth was floored. Not because of the idea – he had thought of it plenty of times himself, it kept him awake at night – but because someone was expressing confidence in him, someone other than himself. That was new. That was _very_ new.

Reading Seth’s stunned expression, Meechum realized that he had said the right thing. He didn’t expect or encourage Seth to reply, which was beyond nice of him, because Seth, for once, had no clue what to say. Perhaps making someone smile was reward enough for Edward; he certainly seemed like that type, a class of people Seth could never understand.

In the moments that followed, Seth couldn’t help but to just watch him. Edward’s gaze was needy and expressive yet strictly obedient. He reminded Seth of a handsome young soldier, submissive and stupidly brave, a soldier Seth had under his thumb, one he could command, issue commands to kill. But Seth knew the opposite side of that as well – the government-issued pistol, how well he must have known how to use it, the people he must have killed overseas. There were two men behind those brown eyes, and one heart they both shared.

Finally, Seth gave him a weak half-smile. He really didn’t deserve Meechum. He was lucky enough just to have him for these brief times, whether they meant anything or not.

His phone buzzed, making a loud revving noise on the table which snapped them out of the peace and quiet. Seth never ignored calls and messages, even on his break. He glanced at the screen and saw Frank was the one sending the message.

Reflex made him pick up his phone and read the text. 

_[(+202) Frank Underwood]: Come to the residence at 9:00 sharp. Don’t be late._

A vague message, but not to Seth. This was a familiar structure, one he had received in messages from Frank many times before, except that those times had been during the Vice Presidency, and they had cut off abruptly after the Oath of Office, and being made Comms Director, and Tom Yates…

Then, another message.

_[(+202) Frank Underwood]: Should I expect you?_

Seth hesitated. Then he typed a reply.

_I’ll be there._

He put the phone down, expecting nothing further. He had no obligation to tell Meechum about this, but for some reason he felt the desire to tell _someone_. “Frank wants me to come to his residence tonight.” Seth’s gut knotted as he said it aloud, like the reality turned truer than before.

Edward’s face twisted in a mix of shock and envy. “He wants _you_?” It was sad how quickly jealousy could replace the personal intimacy they had recently been sharing. Did it all mean nothing?

Seth kept his cool. “Relax. I don’t think he wants _that_ kind of meeting.”

“What if he does?”

Good question. Seth should have thought of an answer in his head before it was even asked, a solution if that problem arose, but he was too confused for forward planning. Seth’s least favorite strategy, in all situations, was to wait it out and deciding on the fly, but that was exactly what he would have to do tonight.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is self-indulgent because i wanted to write about seth jerking off. you get no apologies.
> 
> this was gonna be like 800 words but its almost 2k. i got carried away for TMI reasons. still not sorry though.

For a guy who did public speaking for a living, Seth hated making things up on-the-fly. He liked to plan in advance, to have answers before questions were asked, to know the outcome or at least prepare for all possibilities. 

One preparation he could make was for the outcome he least expected, but when dealing with Underwood, every outcome was a possibility. He drove home quickly after leaving the Capitol and before the door to his apartment had even closed, he was already kicking off his shoes and loosening his tie.

He had to prepare. Just in case.

Seth stripped down until he was only in his white undershirt and socks. The air in the room was still and silent. He hated feeling this vulnerable, especially when he was alone.

A suit and tie often felt like battle armor. Blues, blacks, and silvers were the only hues Seth felt proud in. He felt naked without a tie around his neck. Sometimes he felt the most vulnerable in his empty apartment, so disrobing was difficult. He worked late so he could come home exhausted, flop down on his bed, removing only his coat and shoes, and fall asleep like that.

Seth knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep tonight unless he was put to sleep. Edward had gotten his fill earlier and made no plans to return tonight, so it was Underwood or bust. And for that, Seth needed to prepare.

It was a stupid idea to stop wearing the plug, because re-inserting now was sure to be awful. He cursed himself for not bottoming for Edward at least once, to lose his bottom virginity with him; Ed would have at least been a great deal gentler than Underwood. Probably. 

Seth laid back on his bed and put his legs up, spreading them a bit. He kept water-based lubricant in his personal collection. It worked better than silicon-based lube for inserting the plug, while the latter was better for easing the comfort of keeping it in for long periods of time. But Seth needed all the help he could get right now. And whether he was to get laid or not tonight, the plug was only temporary.

A million stressors were tensing his muscles up. Thinking about Edward’s jealousy, Tom Yates’ presence, and Francis’ invitation did not make it better. Seth anticipated the pain. His body knew it was coming. His hole was tight when he pressed his fingers against it. He rubbed around the puckered rim in gentle circles to ease himself. It felt good. Entrance was another challenge.

Seth was on his back, which made reaching his hole awkward, but accessing himself from underneath was the easiest route. He arched his back as he pressed his first finger inside. The tightness of the muscle started to lessen, and entering was easier because his fingers were dripping with lubricant. He pushed in deeper. He neared his prostate unintentionally and his body rewarded him with a flush of pleasure. He responded by introducing a second finger.

Lubing himself up was the priority, but stretching his hole would ease the process as well. He tried spreading himself. It was a little hard to stomach, awkward to scissor his fingers in and out, side to side, but he got the hang of it. It felt good. He was warm, tight. He knew he was seizing up unintentionally, making it difficult to push in. He took long, drawn out breaths to calm himself, and closed his eyes.

It took a while, but he relaxed. His hole was dilated enough that he could finger in and out with no friction. He kept his legs spread and removed his fingers, feeling the cool breeze of absence blow against his hole. Seth looked at his hand. It was dripping with lube down past his wrist and his fingers were gleaming with a multitude of fluids. The air chilled them, too.

Seth coated the plug with lubricant for good measure. He was probably going overboard, but he wanted as little discomfort as possible. 

As soon as he positioned the plug outside his hole, his stomach started to knot again. He teased the dully-pointed tip against it. He swallowed hard. It felt so big in comparison to his hole. He knew he could take it, but imagining the physiology was dizzying. He held his breath and pushed it inside.

It felt like fire all over again. The only difference was that he had learned how to stomach the pain. He made sure to breathe as his hole stretched out far over the base, then closed up around the much thinner neck. His insides tightened up around it, so he could feel its exact shape up inside of him. The plug had a decent give to it, but it was heavy and the diameter was wide.

It was settled, tight and firm. It wasn’t going anywhere. Seth kept his eyes closed, and he swore he saw colors. He draped both hands over his stomach and concentrated on breathing. He was doing better than expected. The pleasure was triumphing over the pain. He tightened up. It felt really fucking good.

Seth’s cock was hard, lying against his stomach pointed up towards his hands, throbbing for attention, big and red between his legs. His balls ached. His prostate was sending signal shockwaves impossible to ignore. He had to come. His body as begging him for it.

Jerking off before potentially getting fucked was probably not a good idea, but there was no way to let this erection die down. Seth was hung, and letting his cock stay stiff for too long was extremely uncomfortable. 

He considered getting his phone so he could pull up some porn, but he was still relaxing and probably shouldn’t move around too much. He tried to avoid porn as much as he could, anyway. It was addictive, a poison to the brain and body, even more destructive to someone as lonely as Seth.

Instead, he closed his eyes. He used his imagination the old fashioned way. 

His hand still had lube on it. He let it trail down his soft tummy, across the feathery brown pubes between his legs, and finally traced his fingers down the underside of his cock, which was exposed belly-up just like he was, tenderly tracing the ridge of his stalk and the faint outlines of veins pulsing and pounding in time with his heart. 

A shiver ran through him. It had been a long time since he’d done this. Masturbating usually left him feeling like a pathetic, disgusting mess afterwards, sometimes even bringing him to tears if he drank too much, but tonight was different. Tonight, Seth would not be alone.

Seth took his cock in his fist, coating it with leftover lubricant, getting it slippery from head to balls. Then he started pumping himself, his hand lacking friction, moving smoothly with each stroke. 

He daydreamed. He’d taken Underwood’s cock in his mouth before. It was thick, maybe even thicker than the plug Seth was being filled with. He imagined Francis’ hand in his hair, shoving his face against a wall, fucking him hard and dry. 

His dream shifted, and Edward was there, with his soft hands and pretty eyes, giving Seth wet kisses and riding his cock like a cowboy, mewling like cat in heat.

Another shift, and it was Claire, legs spread, sitting on Seth’s face, refusing to let him breathe or see the light of day until he licked and sucked an orgasm out of her wet pink lips. 

Then, Remy Danton, quiet and sensual, trailing fluttering kisses between Seth’s thighs before teasing his tongue in circles around Seth’s hole, to tease and tantalize.

Flashes of sexual scenes followed, repeats of old lovers and of those he’d never touched, visions of the administration, of enemies, of random outliers like Connor Ellis and Jackie Sharp – people he knew, people he had information on. It was like they were rewarding him, or punishing him, through this wild series of fantasies without plot. Seth’s mind spun, a Ferris wheel of ideas. He needed to settle on one if he had any hope of coming.

Pre-come leaked out his slit and dripped down onto his untamed pubes, but didn’t open his eyes to notice. His cock was completely stiff now, and he couldn’t move fast enough to ease the pressure. His wrist started to cramp so he switched hands, moving the tired one to his bed sheets which he gripped in a tight, slippery fist.

His whirlwind mind finally settled on Doug Stamper.

Memories mixed with fantasies, and Stamper’s eyes were in all of them. His hands, his voice, the fear that chilled the air each time he entered a room. Seth imagined fucking him, then being fucked by him. He imagined the fullness in his hole was not a toy, but the real thing, that it was Doug filling him up to punish him or put fear in him or hurt him. And it did hurt. Seth was being torn open even if he was ignoring it, but he fucking _loved_ every second of it.

Seth milked his own orgasm right out of his cock. His back arched, his thighs were trembling, and he was sweating through his shirt, and it all burst out of him at once, along with a deep, satisfied whine, one which might wake the neighbors.

Regaining coherence amidst the afterglow, Seth caught each pump of his orgasm in a black dress sock. The cream was clearly visible on the dark, thin fabric, and it started to bleed through the other end when Seth bunched it up. Some had leaked down his shaft so he wiped it up with the dry patches he could find. 

The sock was all wrinkled up when he was done and when he unfolded it he could see the come had spread everywhere, creamy and translucent, patterned like a Rorschach painting, and he could feel its warmth through the clean backside of it.

Seth turned the sock inside-out and tossed it into the laundry. He would probably have to end up throwing it away, because it was a big load he’d emptied, one that was going to dry up and be difficult to hand wash, even if he used cold water. He didn’t have time to do it now. It was 8:30. He would have to leave soon if he was to arrive at the residence in time for the meeting with Underwood.

He got dressed again. He had to bend over carefully and cautiously. His hole was already starting to flare up around the plug, in bitter protest. Sitting in the car and driving back to the White House was not going to be fun.

Accidentally, Seth caught a glimpse of himself on the full-length mirror mounted the back of his door. He was getting old, passing the forty mark further and further every day now. He only really realized it when he saw himself, since he was in decent physical shape. His stomach turned. He was too old to be anyone’s whore, even a President’s. 

He was too old to be alone, too. He looked away from the mirror. He drove straight to the White House, second-guessing all the way.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont have anything to say this time, so.. shout-out to derek cecil. just because.

It was dark outside when Seth arrived at the White House. It was dark in the study, too. 

Only a desk lamp lit up the area, barely, but it lit up Francis’ face most of all, casting eerie shadows across it when he looked up and gestured for Seth to come inside. “I’m looking over the speech,” Francis announced. His reading glasses were on his face and he had the pieces of paper neatly on his desk. “You did a good work on this one.”

Though it wasn’t his job, Seth had written it himself. As with the speech about entitlement reform and the Fourth of July national address, Francis had given the task of speech-writing to Seth, who he trusted a great deal more than the actual speech writing staff. 

It was little things like this that made Seth feel welcomed, made him feel like he really was a part of the inner circle, a part of the family Edward had spoken of so fondly. “Thank you, sir.” He felt proud. He stood a little taller.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Francis added, pushing his reading glasses up his nose after they slipped down, “I had Thomas make a few additions. You can read them over, if you’d like, but I assure you they’re good.”

Seth’s heart sunk. So much for trust and family bonding. He didn’t have anything to say.

“Come here, Seth.”

Seth felt himself walking towards the sound of Frank’s voice. He could feel his cock already rushing with blood, growing tender and aching for stimulation. How was it that this was already doing it for him? He’d been getting such good fucks from Edward, so it wasn’t like he was sex-starved. It was something about the air in the room. It was dark, and professional, and Frank Underwood was there… Seth scolded himself silently. He was so weak. He had to get over this.

Frank stood from his seat. He took of his reading glasses, placed them on the table, and folded his arms. “You’re taking care of Edward, I trust?”

Now it felt like Seth’s heart was in his throat. He was hit so off guard that it was a miracle he didn’t fall on his ass. “Uh, well, sir,” he stammered, desperate to cover for himself, “I thought it would be in his… best interest… to…” Coming up with a lie was difficult with the President’s eyes on you, even for Seth, who was very good at lying and had made a career of it.

Frank put a hand on Seth’s arm and squeezed, effectively shutting him up. “I’m glad you’re taking care of him.”

Seth didn’t know how to react, or even how to interpret it. He felt half guilty and half spiteful. The main reason Edward needed to be taken care of was Frank’s neglect – did Frank even know that? Did he know the sadness he was causing to someone who cared about him and loved him, or was he oblivious, or was he turning a blind eye? It wasn’t Seth’s place to ask, so he kept his mouth shut.

Thankfully, Frank changed the subject. “Doug is going to be released from the hospital soon.”

One bombshell after another. Seth was starting to feel dizzy. But this announcement didn’t make sense. If Doug was coming back, why warn Seth? It wasn’t Seth’s job that Stamper was after. He didn’t think Frank would force Remy to resign, either. Whatever was going to happen between the former and current Chiefs of Staff, Seth was going to have front row seats. He could practically smell the popcorn already.

Underwood effectively burst his bubble. “He won’t be ready to come back to work right away. We want him back as soon as possible, but I know him. Doug will try to find a place here before he’s ready. I don’t want him hurting or stressing himself, so I can’t allow that to happen.”

Seth knew where this was going. He waited for the punch line.

“Now, I can’t go to see him. Travel, even that of short distances, is difficult and requires a load of logistical coordination. So I want you to visit him once in a while. Gauge him, form an opinion on his physical and mental state, and report back to me. Can you do that?”

Seth’s stomach soured, like he had been poisoned. He had to be a proxy? A babysitter? This was ridiculous and humiliating. But Seth was trapped. He couldn’t say no to the President.

Francis read the distaste on Seth’s expression. “I know you and Doug don’t always agree or get along, but you work together very well. It was the two of you who helped get me into this office, and I want you to help me stay here.” He looked Seth over from head to toe, and sighed. “I’m doing this because I trust you. I trust your judgment and your opinion, and I trust you to be honest and smart.”

Underwood reached a hand up and stroked through Seth’s hair a bit, tucking the outgrown locks behind his ear. He was gentle. The touch made Seth flush with heat. It was so simple, and Frank knew it would work, and it _was_ working. Seth tightened fists at his sides, disgusted at himself.

“Will you do this for me, Seth?”

Seth nodded.

He was finally Frank Underwood’s bitch. Remy had warned him about this. Seth had seen it coming a mile away. Or, his realization came late. Maybe it had been this way for a long time.

Frank took his hand down. He looked into Seth’s eyes and smiled. “Thank you.” He gestured towards the exit. “You can go home now. I’m sorry to make you come out all this way, but those were not instructions I could give over the phone.”

The plug was fire up inside of Seth’s hole, still. It wasn’t getting any better. He looked down at Frank desperately. “I can stay,” he offered. “If you want.”

Frank wasn’t stupid. He knew what Seth meant and what he wanted. And he denied him anyway. “No. Not tonight.” He patted Seth on the arm again, affectionately. “You look like you haven’t slept in ages. Go home. Go to sleep. Go to Edward, if you need to be cared for.”

Seth left without saying goodbye. His throat was tight. He would obey Frank’s orders. He would go home. He would go to sleep. But Edward Meechum would not be there. 

Seth felt like crying, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short update just bc im feeling anxiety about not updating this thing too often!

Seth did as he was told, and each time he followed through on the order, he could feel an invisible collar tightening around his neck.

Of course, Doug was particularly special to Frank, who took no shame in picking favorites. Doug was his favorite. He didn’t have to say it aloud for Seth to know that. But Doug had obsessive tendencies. He sometimes mistook diverted attention for a switch of preference – such was not the case. Doug should have known Frank better, of course, but he couldn’t help that this was the direction his brain always led him. Underwood likely forgave him on that count, but Doug didn’t have to know that, not if Seth had any say in it.

He followed his orders and called Doug. Sometimes Doug caught him off guard and called him instead. Both ways were more difficult experiences that he’d imagined. 

Hearing Doug’s voice, for the first time in months, was staggering. Even through the phone, his voice was soft, almost sinister. Quiet, yet he felt as if Doug was actually in the room with him, whispering into his ear. Sometimes Seth closed his eyes and imagined him perfectly, the way his lips moved, his dark irises, his expression shrouded in shadow. But when Seth opened his eyes and hung up the phone, he was alone.

Seth found himself calling Doug to check up on him. Which, to be fair, was what he was told to do. Except he had never actually pictured himself wanting to do it. 

He told himself it was a way to combat the loneliness, which was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth. The rest of the truth, Seth did not think about. Some things were best left alone. Self-psychoanalyzing wasn’t always helpful.

Sometimes he found his fingers scrolling through his contacts until he found _Stamper, Douglas_ , and pressing the button to call. Sometimes he hesitated before doing it, sometimes he didn’t.

He dreamed up new reasons to call Doug. If he didn’t have a good reason, he called him anyway. Seth was probably annoying the shit out of the guy, but that was admittedly fun, so he didn’t stop.

“Did you listen to the speech?” Seth asked him, putting his feet up on his desk and making sure the door was closed. 

It had been a radio address, but no doubt, Doug had turned in to listen to Francis’ every word. “I did. Who wrote it? Was it you? It sounded like your writing.”

Seth felt a little chuffed. “Yeah, I wrote it. Is that a bad thing?”

“No, your writing is good. Often better than the hired speechwriters.” Doug could practically feel Seth’s arrogance through the phone. “Don’t get full of yourself now. Just take the compliment and don’t bring it up again.”

Seth knew when to cut his losses, but he didn’t forget the praise. “How are you doing? Found any work?”

Stamper’s voice went cold. “I already told you. I’m waiting until the President asks for me to return. I have no desire to work for someone else. I’m sure you know how I feel.”

He was right, Seth supposed. He hadn’t thought about that previously and didn’t want to consider it now. “Your ability to return and work with us is under my discretion, though. I don’t think I can tell the President you’re ready until you prove it. Want me to set up a job for you?”

“Are you even listening to me? I said, I will work for nobody besides Frank. That isn’t going to change.”

Seth made a note to look up some Congressmen and women who needed a new Chief of Staff. Doug was as stubborn as a bull, and Seth would try to help him regardless of if he wanted it or not. “Whatever you say, Stamper,” he sighed.

There was a decent pause from Doug’s end. Not even a sigh, of annoyance or otherwise.

Seth didn’t like when Doug paused, because then he wasn’t speaking, which meant Seth couldn’t hear his voice. “Doug?”

“If you want to gauge me, determine if I’m ready or not, wellness checks over the phone won’t do you any good.” Doug sighed. “ _Obviously_. You call me every damn day and I give you the same response.”

“Sorry, but I’m not going to stop calling you. President’s orders.” Of course, Frank hadn’t told Seth to call every day, but Doug didn’t need to know that.

“I meant that you should come over.”

Come over? To Doug’s place? Seth had never been there. He furrowed his brow, considering. What kind of game was this? Why would Doug ever want him to come over, to pay a visit, even if the President didn’t demand it? Seth didn’t like the smell of this.

But he wanted to see him, through opened eyes. He hadn’t visited Doug a single day in the hospital. The last time they had been together, Doug had put a hand around Seth’s throat and showed him his place. Maybe that’s what Seth wanted again. To be touched. To be reminded of where he ought to be. It would be good, to be taught that lesson again. He had earned a good place here, worked his ass of for it, but the hierarchy would never change, whether he was Chief of Staff or a White House janitor.

That hierarchy had been disrupted by Thomas Yates. It had been completely turned on its head when Edward and Seth started fucking. Even worse was that Frank and Claire weren’t even sleeping in the same bed anymore. 

The order needed to be restored. If that happened, everything else would fall into place.

“Seth? You still there?”

“Yeah.”

“Come over. I want to see you.”

Seth could feel his cell phone in his hand, getting sweaty from his palm, his fingers curled tight around it, apprehensive. “Okay. I will.”

Doug’s voice was ethereal, passing muffled through the phone into Seth’s ear. “Good.” He hung up. 

Seth kept the phone to his ear even after he heard the click. Then he put it down and checked the time. It was late. He should be getting home. This time, thinking of his apartment didn’t fill him with dread. He’d be alone, but not for long.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be doing a series re-watch so I'll be in a strong fic-writing mood, and I love to take prompts! Here's my FAQ which includes a link to contact me, right on my [tumblr](http://subwaywolf.tumblr.com/fics). I love you all!!!!!


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